


Intermission: Ryan Ross

by EdgarAllenPoet



Series: wolf!verse [4]
Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Culture Club, Dark, Homelessness, Other, Prostitution, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-09 21:42:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7818355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdgarAllenPoet/pseuds/EdgarAllenPoet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’ve gotten yourself in a lot of trouble, baby boy,” Dahvie said, hand pressing to the wall next to Ryan’s head and caging him in.  “A runaway.  A high school dropout.  A cheap whore, and now a werewolf.  How does such a sweet kid like you get wrapped up in a mess like this?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intermission: Ryan Ross

**Author's Note:**

> If you've been wondering what happened to Ryan Ross since Book One, this is it.

_“Sweet cunning eyes_

_try to take from me_

_You're too young, I'm too wise_

_this is parody…_

_Love, maybe lust, made me sweet sixteen”_

_-Culture Club_

 

Ryan Ross has been the embodiment of the phrase, “What is a kid like you doing in a place like this?” practically from the day he was born.Trouble had never stuck to someone so stubbornly as it has stuck to Ryan, trailing the child like a ghost since his earliest memories.Every time he thought that things were getting better, things were actually just getting different, and if there was anything he could do to piece his life back together, he had no idea what that was. 

 

It was a particularly low point in his life, he realized, while he sat on the bus at eleven a.m. and drummed his fingers on his knees.He was sixteen now and supposed to be a junior in high school, but he never went anymore.He wondered if his father still got voicemails everyday: 

 

_“Mr. Ross, we’re calling to tell you your son George only attended half of his classes this afternoon.”_

 

_“Mr. Ross, we’re calling to tell you your son George failed to report to school today.”_

 

_“Mr. Ross, we’re calling to tell you your son George is a high school dropout and a miserable failure just the way you said he would be.”_

 

_“Mr. Ross, your son is a stripper.Thought you should know.”_

 

Ryan had to wonder who knew what about his life at this point.In a town as small as theirs, somebody had to know.Z’s parents probably thought he’d been kicked out of his home, considering he was living on the couch in their basement, but if they knew anything, they didn’t talk about it.Ryan was a polite guest, after all, because he didn’t have many friends willing to let him crash at their place.He didn’t have many friends at all, but Z was definitely special.So he made sure not to piss off her parents.He came in quietly enough not to wake anyone up, and he left early enough to convince them he was getting an education.He did the dishes if he was ever home during meals, which was rarely, and he was impeccably polite the way a kid with Ryan’s childhood only could be.

 

You learn not to expect kindness, is what he means.When it’s offered, you act like you’re getting a gift straight from God himself. 

 

On the bright side, Ryan considered, he wasn’t under any delusions that he was normal.The first step of the twelve step plan was to recognize that you have a problem.Well, Ryan had a lot of problems, and he stared them all straight on and called them by name.That way he knew he wouldn’t get too fucked up.You only got really fucked up when you thought you were okay.

 

Ryan wasn’t okay at all, but at least he knew that. 

 

He gave a polite grin and a nod to the bus driver as he hopped off the bus.He wanted to say something else, something like, “Have a good day,” or “Thank you very much,” but he was too shy to choke out the words with seven other people watching.He stepped from the bus onto the gravel road, stones crunching under his torn up tennis shoes as he headed the short way to a nondescript white washed building with blacked out windows.It didn’t have any signs or wordings or identification, but damned if it wasn’t packed full of the town’s sinners every night. 

 

Maybe this was what all seedy strip joins looked like.Maybe Ryan just hadn’t gotten the memo.

 

He’d found the thing when he was fifteen and still living with his father.After a sleepless night he hadn’t really felt like going to school that day, so he just took off walking.He walked and walked and then the next thing he knew, he was walking along the highway in the middle of the woods.He considered going back probably a half-dozen times, but where was he going to go anyways? 

 

Then he stumbled across Dahvie’s, a white box of a building, with patchy paint and smeared black windows.He thought it was somebody’s house at first, except that it was in the middle of a parking lot and a bit too big.He crept closer, and around the side he found some cinderblock steps and a big red door that read “NOTICE: MUST BE 21 TO ENTER.” 

 

Ryan was beyond giving a shit at that point.What were they going to do, throw him out?So he grabbed the handle and pulled, squinted into the low lit room, and headed inside. 

 

“Well hey there, angel,” a voice had said to him as he slowly tip toed his way inside.“What’s a boy like you doing in a place like this?” 

 

That had been Dahvie.Dahvie always had something clever to say like that.This time the trip into the club was familiar.He gripped his backpack strap and skipped up the wobbly cinderblock steps, traipsed his way inside, and hopped up onto a bar stool. 

 

“Well look who it is, the golden boy,” Ralph said, leering too close for Ryan’s preferences.He smirked back and raised an eyebrow. 

 

“You ever go home last night?Or you still drinking?” Ryan asked.He wasn’t sure what Ralph’s deal was.Ryan had been coming to the club regularly for a while, people watching at first, and then stripping more recently, and he still hadn’t figured Ralph out.The best he could understand was that Ralph was an alcoholic (obviously) and Dahvie’s was his “Cheer’s.”Why Ralph didn’t just go to a bar in town to waste away, Ryan couldn’t be sure, but he didn’t ask.He couldn’t talk about it without coming off as bitter, and the last thing he wanted was to stir up trouble. 

 

Around Dahvie and his gang it was best to know your place. 

 

“Georgie boy!” Speak of the devil.Ryan swiveled around in his stool to face Dahvie, who came immediately over and squeezed his upper arm as a ‘hello’ before flitting away behind the bar.“How’s my boy today?The best?”

 

“Only the best for you,” Ryan responded, because every conversation with Dahvie turned into flirting if he had his way with you.If that was what it took to keep Ryan on Dahvie’s good side, he was more than happy to indulge him. 

 

“You’re on tonight,” he said.“Ever get down that pole work Kat was showing you?” 

 

“I can manage,” Ryan said, but Dahvie shook his head at him from across the bar. 

 

“Not good enough.You want to earn your stay?Go practice.” 

 

So practice Ryan did, doing rudimentary pole work methodically and not bothering to put on a show for the few spectators who weren’t paying attention anyways.He wasn’t the best at this stuff; he didn’t have a natural talent like Kat or some of the other girls did.He was good enough to get by, though, and when it came to gay shows, the audience didn’t care too much for acrobatics.They wanted things up close and personal. 

 

That had been hard at first, learning to let people touch him, but Ryan was an old pro at it by this point.Most of the men were polite enough about it, only touching shoulders or wrists or hips.They had more leeway if they paid for a lap dance, but anything more than that and Ryan took them to Dahvie.The club owner had a few aces up his sleeve; he had some hook-ups if people wanted more than what Ryan could give them.

 

He didn’t really know how it worked, but then again, he didn’t really need to.It wasn’t any of his business.Ryan was a stripper, and he intended to keep it that way.He could sell the illusion of sex without selling his body.There were some things he’d like to believe were still sacred.

 

That wasn’t to say he was a virgin, though.He’d hooked up with Z a couple of times, and a few of his other friends before that.He was _sixteen_ years old.He knew what he liked in bed.

 

He just wasn’t willing to sell it. 

 

“Georgie boy, come here!” Dahvie called out, and Ryan dropped himself carefully from the pole and ambled over to the bar, which had Ralph, Dahvie, the bartender- Chris, and someone Ryan didn’t recognize.The stranger looked a bit like Dahvie, which was strange, because Ryan hadn’t ever seen somebody like Dahvie before, with his overly styled hair that was heavy and spiked on purpose, dramatically scene make-up that even the edgy kids at school hadn’t tried to pull off, and clothes so tight they left nothing to the imagination. 

 

Never mind that the only thing Ryan was wearing was a pair of basketball shorts.The way Dahvie and this man dressed was downright indecent, unless you were at a place like the club. 

 

The stranger’s eyes made their slow journey up Ryan’s body, from his toes all the way up to look him in the eyes, and then he smirked.Something about the entire glance felt predatory, and Ryan was immediately aware of his naked chest and bare feet.That was ironic, considering he got naked for strangers every night on stage, but he usually didn’t have any one-on-one attention.Usually the lights weren’t on.

 

“Didn’t I tell you he was beautiful?” Dahvie asked. 

 

The stranger hummed low in his throat and nodded looking Ryan over again.Now Ralph and Chris had joined in on the fun, and Ryan was certain he had to be blushing.He felt shy.“I’d love to get my hands on that,” the man said.Ryan shrunk back a little. 

 

“C’mere, Georgie boy,” Dahvie said, Ryan’s stage name and a play on the Karma Chameleon celebrity, Boy George.He’d thought it was pretty clever.His real name- his first name- was George, and he could be a pretty boy who wore make-up on stage if that’s what got him a paycheck.It was just destined to be. 

 

Dahvie held a manicured hand out, his fingers like claws with black painted, sharpened fingernails.Ryan went to him quickly and let Dahvie wrap an arm around him, pull him so that Ryan’s bare back was pressed against Dahvie’s chest and the older man could rest his chin on Ryan’s shoulder. 

 

“Hands off for now,” Dahvie told the guy, keeping his arm securely around Ryan.Hands off for everyone except Dahvie.Ryan couldn’t really complain.“Sweetheart, this is my friend, Jay.He owns half the club.” 

 

If Ryan was anyone else, he might have held his hand out to shake and have a polite greeting.As it was, he settled back against Dahvie a bit more and tilted his head a fraction, pursing his lips, and said nothing.

 

“You haven’t gotten him to-” Jay started, but Dahvie cut him off.

 

“Not yet.” 

 

Ryan wondered what he’d been about to say, but he didn’t ask.It was best not to. 

 

“Hot young thing.” Jay reached out and patted Ryan’s cheek, which he really didn’t appreciate.He let this be known by jerking away from the touch and narrowing his eyes with a menacing scowl. 

 

“Oh, I see now,” Jay said, and then smirked.He kept solid eye contact with Ryan as he reached out and gripped his jaw with a hold too strong to pull away from.It hurt, and Ryan fought to keep his eyes from squeezing shut.“He’ll come around,” he said, then let go. 

 

Dahvie let go, too.He said, “Go play,” and nudged Ryan off towards the other side of the club, towards the stage and away from the bar.Ryan walked away with tight shoulders and his jaw clenched, because something about Jay-the looks and the touches and the way he talked about Ryan like he wasn’t right there- rubbed Ryan the wrong way and had him feeling all hot and uncomfortable.He wished they couldn’t see him practicing from across the club, so he ducked into the bathroom for a little while to try and catch his breath and a moment of privacy. 

 

 

 

…

 

_“I'm the boy (you made me)_

_I'm the boy_

_I'm the boy_

_Love is..._

_What you make it”_

_-Culture Club_

 

It would have been fitting for Ryan’s stage show to have a few songs from Culture Club, considering his name, but he didn’t pick the songs and he knew better than to complain.As it was, it had been a good night, and Ryan handed over the money he’d made that night and leaned back against the counter in the backroom while Dahvie shuffled through it. 

 

“You did good tonight, baby boy,” a man named Sasha said, pushing a make-up wipe into Ryan’s hands.Ryan turned towards the grimy mirror hanging on the wall and scrubbed the layer of paint off his face, revealing dark circles and thoughtful eyes and unseemly acne. 

 

“You too, Sash,” he responded.Sasha got a lot more attention in the club that Ryan did, but he’d been there a lot longer, so it was only fair.He stood tall, towering over Ryan with seventy-four inches of height.He had a strong jawline and wide shoulders that came from being fully grown, and Ryan envied him.He was hot.The perverts who weren’t there on gay nights to watch Ryan act like a blushing virgin on stage were there for men like Sasha.There was a much larger audience in the club for men like him. 

 

“You’ll get there, sweetheart, don’t you worry,” he said, as if reading Ryan’s mind.Ryan gave him a rare grin. He wondered what it was about himself that compelled people to call him ‘sweetheart.’Maybe it was just a thing with fags, but Ryan felt like it was partially his own fault, too.After all, Dahvie didn’t walk into the club and call Chris ‘sweetheart.’ Just Ryan. 

 

“Here you go, kiddo.” Dahvie held Ryan’s cut of his profits out to him, and Ryan quickly pocketed it before anyone could see how much he’d made.It wasn’t much, but it was best to keep finances a secret around such a crowd.If they were willing to dance- among other things, if you asked some of the guys like Sasha- in an underground club, they wouldn’t hesitate to rob a person blind in the parking lot. 

 

Ryan had learned to carry a knife.

 

Just in case. 

 

“You want a ride home?” Dahvie surprised Ryan with the question, partially because Ryan was mostly sure Dahvie actually lived at the club and partially because he wasn’t used to people offering him things. 

 

“Nah, it’s alright,” he said.Another valuable life lesson- it was best not to ask favors.There were people who would keep tally of these kinds of things, and Ryan didn’t like being indebted to anyone.“It’s an easy trip,” he said. 

 

He’d almost said, ‘It’s an easy walk,’ but that’s just an invitation for trouble.Why not tell a room full of questionable characters that he, a skinny, defenseless teenage boy was going to be walking miles through the dark all alone with a wad of cash in his pocket?In the woods, nobody would hear him scream.He may have felt like a big deal at the club, but outside it was dark, but Ryan was very aware of these types of situations. 

 

“It’s no trouble at all,” Dahvie prompted.“And it’s getting cold outside.” 

 

It was getting cold outside.One of the dancers had cracked open a window in the corner of the room earlier to cool down after his set, and that same window was now letting ghosts of a biting breeze into the room, raising goosebumps on Ryan’s arms under his thin jacket.Ryan really didn’t want to make that walk tonight.He was already freezing. 

 

Besides Dahvie’s voice was painted concerned, and he was a good guy.If he wanted to help Ryan out, just this once, well… Ryan would find a way to pay him back quickly and get the whole thing cleared off the table.Maybe he could get himself even further into Dahvie’s favor by spending some personal time with him like this. 

 

It could only work to his advantage.Also, it was really fucking cold out. 

 

Ryan found himself nodding.“Yeah, alright.”

 

Dahvie reached out and ran his hand down Ryan’s arm; it was warm.“Excellent,” he said, and then raised his voice so it carried out of the backroom.“Jay, you’ve got a tag-along!” 

 

Ryan opened his mouth to protest, but Dahvie had already bid him goodnight and was disappearing through the doorway.That was the same doorway Jay came sauntering through, all long legs in too-tight jeans and boots that probably weighed more than Ryan did.He gave Ryan another one of those looks, slow and haunting, and then smirked just like before. 

 

“C’mon then,” the man said, jerking his chin to the side.“I don’t want to be out all night.”

 

It was three a.m.Ryan didn’t know what Jay could possibly mean by that, but he also couldn’t find his voice to not-so-politely tell Jay he could get home by himself, thanks.Instead he found himself following when Jay turned on heel and clomped out the door and across the gravel parking lot in those ridiculous boots. 

 

The drive was long and tense, and Jay seemed dead set on keeping some sort of conversation going.In moments like this Ryan would prefer silence.He wasn’t good with strangers when he wasn’t at the club, because at the club he had a role to play.He and everyone else knew who he was, and he knew what the clients expected out of him.In the real world Ryan didn’t have a role to play, and the character he did fit didn’t help him any at all.

 

He was Ryan, just Ryan, and who the hell was that anyways?He had no idea, and neither did anybody else. 

 

Jay sure seemed determined to find out though.“Dahvie talks about you all the time,” he said.The radio in the car was broken, but at least the heat worked.The windshield fogged up a little in the edges in protest against the cold outside.“If I didn’t know any better I’d be jealous.”

 

Ryan swallowed around the dry lump of anxiety on the back of his tongue and licked his lips.“Oh yeah?” he asked, voice rough and too low, but he couldn’t clear his throat without Jay hearing.Jay didn’t need to know he was nervous.Jay didn’t need to know anything. 

 

“Might be jealous anyways.My partner gets to spend all day and night looking at a hot young thing like you.Might tempt the man to never come back to me,” Jay said, stirring Ryan’s curiosity.

 

“Partner?” he asked. 

 

“Business partner.”Jay turned to him and raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow.“What did you think I meant?” He smirked.He knew exactly what he’d meant. Ryan kept his eyes firmly on the dash board.

 

“He pay you good?” Jay asked, milking the conversation for all it was worth. 

 

“Good enough,” Ryan responded. 

 

“You could make more, y’know.Double, easy.” 

 

This time it was Ryan who raised an eyebrow, finally risking a glance to the other side of the car to find Jay looking at him while he drove.It was unnerving, and probably a safety hazard.Ryan held his ground and didn’t look away.He didn’t ask, ‘is that so?’ or ‘how?’ but the question was there, and Jay picked it up easy. 

 

He turned his gaze back to the road, but not his attention, for in that same moment his hand settled on Ryan’s thigh and squeezed. 

 

“There’s a lot of money to be made if you’re up for it,” he said and slid his hand higher.“You just have to learn to make people happy.Give them what they want.”

 

Ryan hissed in a breath through his teeth and sat stock still, eyes glued to the hand inching too far into Ryan’s personal space.As if Ryan hadn’t shown all of this skin off on stage just an hour earlier.As if Ryan had any right to be shy about his body now, but right or not he still was, and he didn’t like the feel of Jay’s hands on him. 

 

“You want to make Dahvie happy, don’t you?” Jay asked.“Want him to keep you around, hm?”

 

Ryan couldn’t find his voice.He couldn’t tell Jay that Dahvie would keep him around anyways- he’d said so- that he didn’t have to do whatever Jay was suggesting to keep his connections.But his voice was scared and hiding somewhere in Ryan’s throat, even as the GPS on Jay’s lap chimed and the car pulled up at the end of Z’s block.A dog somewhere nearby started barking at the noise of the engine.Ryan hoped the whole neighborhood didn’t wake up.

 

“You could make a lot of people very happy, Ryan.You could make _me_ very happy… _tonight…_.” Jay’s hand squeezed Ryan’s dick through the front of his jeans, and that was enough to spark Ryan back into action.His hand grabbed for the handle and jerked the car door open.He pressed on the seat belt release, and nearly fell on his face in his hurry to get out of the car. 

 

“Don’t touch me!” He managed to spit it out, too demanding and shrill and loud in the quiet hours of the night.He slammed the car door shut, but Jay was already working on rolling down the window. 

 

“You’ll come around eventually!” Jay yelled.Ryan made his legs start working again and hurried down the street away from him.“This illusion of modesty you’ve got going- it’ll crumble eventually.What’s one more step, baby?You’re already a whore!” 

 

The words cut a bit too deep, or maybe it was just exhaustion winning over, but Ryan felt his eyes start to sting.He balled his hands into fists and ran.He was only half a block away from Z’s house, and then he’d be warm and safe and could pass out and not think about this night anymore. 

 

Jay flew past in the car, engine like thunder and horn blaring the whole way down the block.Ryan cringed.He came to a stop in Z’s driveway, and as the car drove off the light in the master bedroom flickered on.Ryan saw the silhouette of Z’s father in the window, and they stood there watching each other for a long moment, until Ryan ducked his head and hurried off around the house and in the back basement door. 

 

… 

 

 

_“Your life is lust_

_You kiss and run..._

_And you mistrust_

_You hold out_

_With the nowhere men_

_You dance your dance_

_and try again”_

_-Culture Club_

 

That next morning Ryan overslept.He was pretty good about being up in time, but he must have slept through the alarm he set, because when he finally blinked his eyes open he was squinting up at a too bright window.His whole body felt heavy with exhaustion, and it took everything he had to roll over and sit up.He rubbed at his eyes and then peered at the busted alarm clock that lived on the coffee table next to him.It’s normally red numbers had gone blank, so the thing had finally bit the dust.It figured.No wonder Ryan had overslept. 

 

There was the sound of movement upstairs in the kitchen above him.Ryan looked up at the ceiling then flopped onto his back and groaned.There was no way of keeping up the pretense of going to school now that the folks were up.He was screwed. 

 

He’d have to go up there and face the music eventually.He’d made a habit of getting to the club around eleven every day, and while Dahvie had never said Ryan had to be there that early, he’d likely come to expect it at this point.Ryan wasn’t eager to let him down. 

 

Ryan rolled off the couch and onto his knees on the grungy shag carpet that decorated part of the unfinished basement.He dug around in his duffle bag and tried to find something clean to wear.It’d been about two weeks since he’d done laundry, and he didn’t have enough clothes to last very long.Jeans and a fading blue polo shirt would have to do.The shirt was several sizes too big for him, and Ryan was mostly sure that he’d borrowed the thing from Spencer and then never given it back.Maybe Ginger had given it to him.She was always trying to take care of him. 

 

God, Ryan missed Spencer’s family, but what was gone was gone.There was nothing he could do about it. 

 

Upstairs, Z’s parents stopped their conversation to turn and stare at Ryan as he came in.He bit his lip and adjusted the backpack on his shoulder. 

 

“I, um… overslept….” he tried to explain, but they didn’t respond at all.They just kept their eyes locked on him, Z’s mother with a polite (albeit forced) smile on her face, and Z’s father with a blank expression.After a long, tense moment, he nodded mostly to himself, ducked his head to hide his eyes behind his hair, and headed out the front door. 

 

The bus ride to Dahvie’s was too fast with the way Ryan kept dozing off, and he couldn’t figure out why he was so tired.He was, though, so he tossed himself off the bus and dragged his feet across the gravel lot to the shaky steps.He heaved himself inside, sinking under the weight of his backpack, and took a moment to let his eyes adjust to the low lit interior of the club.

 

Ralph wasn’t there, but Chris was, so Ryan sat up on a bar stool and slumped onto the wood in front of him, letting his head rest on his arms. 

 

“Hey kid,” Chris said.“‘Sup with you?”

 

“Dead,” he groaned.“Can I get a coffee?” Ryan liked Chris because he was one of the only people there you could have a normal conversation with.No games or pet names or hoops to jump through.Just dudes talking at the bar.

 

“Aren’t you a bit young?” Chris asked.Ryan picked his head up to raise an eyebrow, and Chris chuckled.“Yeah, good point.Coffee coming up.”

 

“Thanks,” Ryan said, and dropped his head again. 

 

After Ryan had a mug of coffee warming his hands and tickling his nose with steam he felt a little better.He took a sip, burned his tongue, and smiled. 

 

“Wanna help with paperwork?” Chris asked him.“You’re good at this shit, and there’s no need to practice or prep today.You’re not on tonight.” 

 

Ryan had already been nodding along to the paperwork proposal, but then he stopped and frowned.“I’m not on tonight?” he asked.“I’m always on for Fridays.” 

 

Chris shrugged.“Dahvie mentioned it earlier.I’m not in charge, kid, don’t shoot the messenger.” 

 

Ryan scoffed and held his hand out for the folders so he could start logging in numbers.The club’s book keeping system was ancient, all paper and nothing online, probably to keep everyone’s nose out of their business.Honestly Ryan wasn’t even sure if the liquor license on the wall was legitimate. 

 

The clock on the wall said it was just a little past three, meaning Ryan had slept even later than he’d thought.No wonder he was so tired.He spent the better part of the afternoon squinting at receipts and recording drinks and bottles sold into the book with meticulous handwriting.Dahvie didn’t like it when the books weren’t neat. 

 

He was just finishing up around five, which was when the back door swung open and Dahvie came in, followed closely by Jay.Ryan scowled and turned his attention across the club where the girls were warming up for that night.Ryan was pissed, partially at Dahvie for cutting his hours, but mostly at Jay for what he’d done last night. 

 

Ryan didn’t see Jay glaring a hole into Ryan’s back, but he sure felt it.Then Dahvie and Jay were hurrying across the room to Dahvie’s office without any sort of greeting.That was weird.Chris sighed loudly and shook his head as he wiped a glass out. 

 

“Nothin’ but trouble…” he muttered under his breath.He had to mean Jay, because Chris and Dahvie were friends as far as Ryan could tell, and yeah… Ryan had to agree. 

 

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Ryan asked.Chris just shrugged.Hm. 

 

A short while later they emerged again and came straight over to the bar.Ryan shut the books and watched them.Dahvie liked when people gave him their full attention, and maybe Jay shouldn’t be allowed to see inside the books.Better safe than sorry. 

 

“You let the whores handle the money?” Jay asked with a raised eyebrow, and Ryan felt his stomach sink.

 

“It’s just the books, and just Ryan,” Dahvie responded.“Chris keeps a close eye on him.”

 

“You never can trust that type,” Jay murmured.Ryan clenched his fists. 

 

There was a lull, but when Jay shot Dahvie an expectant look, the other man sighed.“You’re off tonight, Ryan.It might be best if you go home.” 

 

“I always perform on Fridays,” Ryan said immediately, because he hadn’t been able to argue with Chris about it, but now he was talking to the source. 

 

“Not this Friday, sweetheart.Go on home.” 

 

“Why?” Ryan shot back.“I’ve been allowed to stay before when I wasn’t on before.What the hell?” 

 

Jay took a step into Ryan’s space.“He said go home.You’d be wise not to disobey.” 

 

Ryan’s glare hardened.“I wasn’t talking to you,” he ground out through clenched teeth. 

 

“Oh, you feeling all high and mighty today?You’d better watch yourself, slut.”Jay jabbed a finger in Ryan’s face.Ryan batted his hand away, and then Jay slapped him.Ryan’s head snapped to the side, and Ryan took a split second to find his bearings before turning back and lunging. 

 

Dahvie managed to grab him before he could reach Jay, who simply smirked as Ryan was dragged out of the club by his hair. He stumbled along until Dahvie tossed him down the steps and into the parking lot, and then he was back on his feet and yelling. 

 

“What the _fuck_ , Dahvie!?” he shouted. 

 

“You’re off tonight,” Dahvie snapped back.“You pick another fight in my club and you’re done, you got me?I don’t need your prepubescent drama, princess.” 

 

Ryan clenched his fists and worked to get his temper under control.He couldn’t get fired.He needed this job.Where else was he going to go?He needed this. 

 

“I’m sorry,” he spat out.“It won’t happen again.”

 

“You want back in?You apologize to Jay.You disrespected him last night, and he doesn’t stand for that shit.”

 

“Disrespected him?” Ryan asked, crinkling his nose up and crossing his arms.If anything….

 

“He told me what you said.It’s best you watch your place, especially around Jay.You got me?”

 

It was useless.Ryan scoffed and kicked at the gravel with the toe of his sneaker, upending pieces of it.He chewed the inside of his cheek.“Can I at least get my bag?” he asked. 

 

“Hold on.”The door slammed shut behind Dahvie and reopened a second later.Dahvie tossed the backpack to Ryan, who barely managed to catch it.“Apologize tomorrow,” he said.“Be a good boy tonight.” 

 

The door slammed shut again, and Dahvie was gone.A lone car pulled off of the highway to join the few others that had gathered already.Ryan didn’t want to see any clients while he was outside of the club; it was hard to face people as himself, let alone people who only recognized him in short shorts and eyeliner.He slung his backpack onto his shoulders and shoved his hands deep in his pockets, turned on heel, and kept his head down as he trekked across the parking lot.He wasn’t sure what time it was, so he didn’t know how soon the next bus would be coming.He didn’t feel like waiting around that close to the club after what had happened, so he resigned himself to the long walk home and started off down the shoulder of the road. 

 

He was exhausted, and his legs felt heavy.The sun took its time setting behind the mountains as Ryan walked back to town, turning the sky red and pink and purple where Ryan could see it through the trees.By the time he was rounding the corner to Z’s block, the sky was nearly black, and his feet were throbbing with each step.The walk had taken him longer than usual, but it was still much earlier than he should have been home. 

 

The cars weren’t in the driveway when he got there, so Z’s family must have gone out for dinner or something that night.He didn’t know Z’s family very well.The few times they’d had extended family over, Ryan had been careful to stay out of the way and get out of the house until everyone was gone.He knew how it would look, what they would think, if Z’s parents admitted to letting Ryan live in their basement.He preferred not to cause trouble for people.

 

He shuffled his way up the cracked concrete driveway and around the side of the house to the back door, which was the closest entrance to the basement stairs.When he got there, through the shrubs and around the railing of the back deck, up the nice wood steps that Z’s father made himself, he found his duffel bag sitting out on the welcome mat. 

 

Ryan came to a halt and took a moment to process what he was looking at.It didn’t click at first.He went up, nudged the bag out of the way, and gave the door knob an experimental tug.It didn’t budge.He tried again, and then turned around to get the spare key from under the fern they kept on the deck.It wasn’t there. 

 

Ryan turned back to the door and tugged again.Locked.He looked down at his bag, then knelt and unzipped it to look inside.There were his clothes, clean and nicely folded in his bag.He frowned. They’d taken the time to do his laundry and fold it before dumping it out on the porch.It would have been less insulting if they’d just left it in a disgusting pile the way he had.This was like a last kind token. 

 

_“Sorry, we’ve tried our best, but you’re a lost cause,”_ is what the folded clothes said to him. _“We’re done.Get out.”_

 

Well, Ryan didn’t need to be told twice.If he was a different person, he might have picked up a rock in the driveway and hurled it through their dining room window.It would have been nice, an expression of the anger bubbling deep in his gut, but he didn’t have it in him.He’d done all his exploding at the bar, by yelling at Dahvie and hurtling himself at Jay, and where had that gotten him?No, he didn’t want to fight.He just tightened his backpack straps and held his duffel bag over his shoulder with both hands, and then made his way down the street. 

 

He had to stop again halfway down the block when he realized he had no idea where he was going.He had nowhere to go, after all.He’d been kicked out of Z’s house, and he’d been thrown out of the club.Even if he went back and groveled at Jay’s feet, Dahvie had told him to come back _tomorrow_ (he wasn’t exactly ready to do that anyways).He could go back to his dad’s house, but God… he hated to imagine what his dad would do to him after Ryan had run off the way he had.Drunk or not, he wouldn’t be happy.Ryan squeezed his eyes shut against the thought and tried not to think about it. 

 

Ryan thought about going to Spencer’s house, just to see if maybe nobody had bought it yet.Maybe he could sneak inside and camp out in there, in the shell of his childhood best friend’s home, but that would just be too weird.He’d grown up in that house practically, and it would just feel wrong to be there now that it was empty.

 

Besides, they’d probably sold it already, and he’d have to pass his father’s house to get there. 

 

Ryan didn’t want to be around long enough to see Z’s family come home, and he figured that if he loitered in the streets any longer, one of the neighbors would get nervous and call the cops.That would just be the icing on the shit cake that was his day so far.It was best to get out of there, so Ryan set off down the road again and figured he’d find a place to stop eventually, and if he didn’t, well…. 

 

It had to be nearing nine p.m. when he got into town because all of the shops were either closing for the night or already shut down, with locked doors and darkened windows.A rare car wandered its way down the street every once in awhile, but other than that, Ryan was totally alone.It was fitting.That’s how he felt. 

 

He also felt tired, and his legs were ready to fall off.The extra weight of his duffel bag and the sharp bite where the strap dug into his shoulder wasn’t helping.Every time he was sure he couldn’t keep walking, he just sucked it up and trudged on.What choice did he have?It was just him and the city tonight.

 

 

…

 

_“Guns that cross the street_

_You never know who you might meet_

_There's no one there_

_to keep you warm_

_It's no surprise”_

_-Culture Club_

 

He’d been walking for what felt like hours when he stumbled upon seemingly the only place that was open in this town late at night.At least, he thought it was late at night.It had to be late at night, considering how dark everything was: the sky, the stores, his mood.He’d actually passed the restaurant earlier in his walking, but since he’d been out for a while now and still hadn’t thought of a plan, he let himself stop in front of the doors the second time around. 

 

Ryan adjusted the bag on his shoulder and bit his lip.He had to pee, but they probably had a “paying customers only” policy.His stomach was rumbling uncomfortably.He hadn’t eaten all day.He thought about the money he kept tucked away in his backpack- his cut from the show last night- and figured he could afford a meal if he kept it cheap.He needed to save money, sure, but it wasn’t like he could even consider saving up for an apartment or anything.There wasn’t a person alive that would rent out to a sixteen year old. 

 

_You know what?Fuck it_ , he decided, setting his jaw in grim determination and pushing open the glass doors.The place was too bright, harsh on Ryan’s eyes, which had adjusted to the dark and occasional street lamp outside. He took a moment to blink and adjust, and when he finally got the blue circles out of his vision, he found a tired looking woman standing behind a podium, staring at him and popping her gum.

 

“Welcome to IHOP,” she said.She looked old, and Ryan had expected her to have a smoker’s voice, but she sounded fairly normal.“Table or booth?”

 

Ryan requested a booth and followed the woman across the empty restaurant to a booth in the corner.He set his duffel down on the bench seat and slid in next to it, feeling protective of the thing that carried every possession he had in the world.He was pretty sure nobody was going to snatch it from him in IHOP, but he was dead tired and paranoid. 

 

The menu Ryan took from the woman was greasy under his fingertips, and he felt self-conscious about how dirty his fingernails were.He didn’t know they’d gotten so bad.He probably could have used a shower.He felt self-conscious about that, too.

 

The server lady apparently didn’t care, though.She told him that his waitress would be right there and then disappeared, so Ryan just slouched in the booth and fiddled with the menu, trying to focus long enough to choose something to eat and ignore the state of his fingernails. 

 

When the waitress finally showed up Ryan ordered coffee and water and watched her disappear across the restaurant.She’d looked as tired as he felt, if the dark circles under her eyes were any indication.Even with those she was pretty, petite and blonde, and much too old to be Ryan’s type.Mid-twenties easy.Her name tag said “Greta,” and it made Ryan smile, reminding him of a fairy tale.Hansel and Gretel or something.He liked it. 

 

When she came back with his water Ryan didn’t even take the time to say “thank you” before downing it, chugging the water as he realized how parched he was from walking and gasping for air when the glass was empty.He took a moment to catch his breath, which was embarrassing when he realized the waitress-- Greta-- was still there, staring at him silently.He felt his cheeks heat up and turned to look at her.

 

“Um,” he said. “Thanks.” 

 

“Are you ready to order?” Her voice was kind and she had a small smile playing on her lips despite her exhausted.Ryan tried to make himself smile back as he nodded, then ordered something that he barely remembered after the words left his mouth.It would be a surprise at least.She nodded and scribbled his order down, then gave him another smile before turning and walking away. 

 

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but he must have, because the next thing he knew there was a hand shaking his shoulder and Ryan was jolting up in his seat, startled awake and trying to figure out where he was.It took a second, but between the plate of food on the table in front of him and the nice waitress in blue frowning like she was worried, he figured it out pretty fast. 

 

“Fuck,” he muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Sorry.”

 

“Long night?” she asked, and he nodded. 

 

“Way long.” 

 

She bit her lip and glanced back towards the kitchen before sighing and sliding into the booth across from Ryan.Ryan wasn’t sure if she was supposed to do that.He’d never had a waitress sit at his table before, but there was a first time for everything.She nudged the plate over to him and said, “You should eat.You look like you need it.” 

 

There’d been a time where Ryan resented comments about how skinny he was, but since becoming a stripper he’d learned it was more of a blessing than a curse and just let it happen.It wasn’t like he could gain weight if he tried.Nevertheless, he let the plate be pushed over to him and poked at his hash browns. 

 

There was a long silence.Somehow his water had been refilled even though Ryan was nearly certain he’d finished it earlier.His coffee was no longer steaming in its mug, but that was alright.He liked it lukewarm better anyways.His tongue was burnt from earlier. 

 

“So.” Greta eventually broke the silence and raised an eyebrow at him, elbows on the table and chin resting on her folded hands.“What’s with the duffel bag?”

 

Ryan looked down at said duffel bag and then shrugged, looking back up at her hesitantly and wondering why she cared anyways.She seemed to pick that up from the way her grin softened a bit. 

 

“Got any place to go tonight?” she asked, and Ryan shrugged again. 

 

“Here,” he said, then stuck a fork full of hash browns in his mouth.“Today kind of sucks,” he confessed, which startled a chuckle out of Greta and had her pressing her hands to her eyes. 

 

“Yeah,” she said, voice just above a whisper. “I imagine so.” 

 

They made small talk for a while, Greta talking about how slow the restaurant was tonight, and how it was pretty slow every night actually, but damn, tonight it was _dead._

 

“When do you get off?” Ryan asked her. 

 

Greta fished a cellphone out of her pocket to check the time and said, “Twenty minutes ago.”

 

Ryan just about choked.“Oh fuck,” he said. “I’m sorry, shit, I didn’t-”

 

“Hey,” she cut him off, taking one of his flailing hands in hers, and he flinched back from the physical contact without thinking about it.Her eyes stayed on him as she immediately, yet calmly, let go of his hand, and that just made Ryan feel worse.“No,” she said.“It’s okay.I’d rather keep you company.”

 

“You look tired,” he said. 

 

“So do you.” 

 

Ryan wasn’t hungry anymore.He pushed his plate away from him just a bit and looked off across the restaurant.“Yeah, but that’s just me.” 

 

“Just you seems pretty cool to me,” Greta responded, and then asked his name.He told her.She seemed nice enough, so why not?

 

“My real first name is George, but like… nobody calls me that.” 

 

“George Ryan Ross,” she repeated, grinning.“That’s a sweet name.Sounds old.” 

 

“Named after my father,” he said without thinking about it, then cringed inwardly, scared she would ask about him and that he wouldn’t know what to say.She didn’t, though.Instead she gave her own name. 

 

“Greta Salpeter,” she told him.She reached into one of her apron pockets and tore off a small piece of paper. 

 

She scribbled something down on it as she spoke.“This might be weird, since we’re practically strangers,” she told him.“But something tells me a kid like you might need a friend once in awhile.So… if you need anything, don’t be afraid to call.Alright?”

 

Ryan took the slip she handed him and looked it over.Her name, in loopy, girly handwriting and ten carefully printed numbers.He folded it meticulously and slipped it into the front pocket of his backpack. 

 

“Thank you,” he said.“You probably wanna get home, huh?”

 

She shrugged and glanced at her phone again.“My boyfriend is expecting me at his place, but he can wait.”

 

“I don’t want to keep you.” 

 

“I don’t mind.” 

 

Ryan grinned a little bit and picked at his fingernails under the table.“Either way… I should get going. I have someone waiting for me, too.” 

 

“You do?” she asked, not buying Ryan’s lie at all.He thought for a second, trying to think of anyone he could call.There was Jason.He might not mind Ryan crashing at his place for a night.There was Michael, that college kid he’d met at a party a while back.But Michael didn’t like to give favors without some sort of payment in return, and Ryan wasn’t looking for that kind of sleepover tonight.He thought of what other numbers he had memorized.Dahvie’s.Spencer’s, but hah.No. 

 

Jason it was then.Ryan just hoped he was sober enough to answer the phone.It was a Friday night, and sophomore year Jason had always used those nights to get shit faced in his attic bedroom while his unsuspecting parents went to after dinner bible study. 

 

“Actually,” he said.“Could I borrow your phone?” 

 

She nodded and handed it over to him, and Ryan wracked his brain for the once familiar phone number, dialed it with hesitant hands, and kept his fingers crossed under the table.

 

 

…

 

 

_“Hey I woke up on my own this morning_

_Don't say you didn't hear us calling_

_You'll be sorry in the morning_

_When we tell you”_

_-Culture Club_

 

Ryan woke up to Jason’s face smushed against his neck, the boy’s arm thrown across Ryan’s back and his leg between both of Ryan’s, dick hard with morning wood and pressed against Ryan’s hip.He groaned as he woke up, rubbing at his eyes and squinting at the light coming through the curtains. It was Saturday, so nobody had come to wake them up.Jason didn’t have a clock in his room, so Ryan had no idea what time it was.

 

The attic was stuffy between Jason- sleep warm and drowsy next to him, skin hot wherever they were pressed together- and the sunshine heated air that had gotten trapped in the attic during the early hours of the morning.Ryan rolled away from Jason and landed promptly on the hardwood floor, but it wasn’t much of a fall, only a few inches.Jason’s bed was just a queen size mattress on the floor of the attic. 

 

The rest of his room was cool.Band posters on the wall, a desk and an overflowing bookshelf in the corner.There was a small box TV sitting on the floor with a Playstation hooked up to it, and a dresser full of drawers across the room.It wasn’t that Jason’s room was lame or unfinished.They just hadn’t gotten around to buying an actual bed, or Jason had convinced his parents that it didn’t matter. 

 

Ryan lay on the floor for a few moments, giving his sleep stupid brain time to catch up to normal speed.Eventually he flapped his hand out for Jason’s phone and pressed the button to light the screen up.11:30 a.m.Fuck.He’d overslept again. 

 

Ryan reached over and prodded at Jason again.“Hey.Hey, wake up.” 

 

Jason moaned in his sleep and rolled away.Ryan huffed, irritated.He knelt up and reached over to shake at Jason’s shoulder.“Hey.Dude.Wake the fuck up.” 

 

“Fuck off,” Jason grumbled sleepily.Ryan continued shoving at him until Jason growled and lobbed a pillow at him, which Ryan caught.Jason laughed, sounding exasperated, and made sitting up look like a hell of a lot of effort. 

 

“Fine, ‘m up,” Jason slurred, rubbing at his eyes.

 

“You’re not even hung-over.Don’t be such a pussy,” Ryan said, grinning. 

 

“Your mom’s a pussy.”

 

“She has one.”

 

“Don’t gotta tell me, man.”Jason winked.Ryan glared and swung the pillow at him, making him laugh good-heartedly as he stood up. 

 

“I need to piss.Why am I awake?” Jason wasn’t wearing anything besides a pair of skin tight boxer briefs that both clung to his skin and were threatening to fall off his left hip.Jason’s skin was tan, even against the black fabric, and Ryan was jealous because he only ever looked milky white, and Dahvie told him that wasn’t the most attractive thing ever.Whatever, it was hard to tan in Colorado anyways, in the valley under the shadow of the mountains. 

 

Jason adjusted his briefs on his hips and scratched idly at his stomach.His dick was hard and protruding in the tent of his underwear, but he didn’t even seem to notice.They weren’t shy about that shit anymore.See a dude naked a half-dozen times and it stops mattering what they look like the next morning. 

 

Ryan just thought it was funny that Jason’s underwear hung lower on his thighs than Ryan’s costumes at work.He wondered what Jason would think if he saw them.He’d probably just think they were hot. 

 

Now was not the time.“I have to go,” he said. 

 

“Didn’t wanna run out on me in the morning?Sweet,” Jason teased. 

 

“Didn’t want to climb out the window,” he said.“Didn’t know how your parents would feel about seeing me.”

 

Jason nodded and then flapped his hand usefully.“They won’t care.They think you’re nice.”

 

“They do not,” Ryan laughed and shook his head.“They think I’m sad.” 

 

“You _are_.”Jason grabbed a pair of pants off the floor and squinted at them before tugging them on.The pulled on a hoodie over that, and then headed for the door of his room.Ryan pulled on a t-shirt as he followed him down the stairs. 

 

“Where are you going anyways?” Jason asked, bathroom door closing behind him.Ryan leaned back against the wall to wait for him.He couldn’t say he was going to “work,” even though he was, because then Jason would want to know where and would try to visit him.He couldn’t say it’s a school thing because Jason had to have noticed by now that Ryan dropped out. 

 

“Family therapy,” he answered finally.“It’s my dad’s idea, I don’t know.He wants to ‘re-connect.’” 

 

Jason laughed harshly through the door.“That’s some bullshit.”

 

“No kidding,” Ryan said.His throat felt tight talking about it. 

 

A few minutes later Jason emerged from the bathroom, wiping his hands on his pants.“Your dad is such a dick,” he said.Ryan hummed in agreement.Jason was allowed to say that.He knew a lot.Ryan had told him a lot.Not all of it- God, not even Spencer knew _all_ of it- but he knew enough to know it wasn’t good.He knew enough to know that therapy at this point would be a joke. 

 

Jason’s parents were surprised to see him, but they didn’t look upset.Jason’s mother patted Ryan on the shoulder, probably remembering that Ryan didn’t like to be hugged, and his father grinned and said, “How’s it hanging, sport?” 

 

Jason’s family was just so normal it hurt. 

 

“You know I can give you a ride,” Jason offered over a breakfast that his mother had _insisted_ Ryan eat, because _“Lord, dear, you’re just so thin.”_  

 

“Nah, it’s cool,” Ryan said immediately.He looked up at the questioning glances he was getting from the whole family.“I like to walk….” 

 

Jason’s mother smiled.“Well, no wonder you’re skinny, then.You walk off every pound you eat.” 

 

Ryan smiled, and they didn’t fight him on it when he headed out the door with his duffel bag over his shoulder and a hat Jason’s mother had forced upon him over his head (“Your ears are going to freeze and fall off. _Take it_.”).She reminded him so much of Spencer’s mom.Maybe all moms were the same like that.Ryan couldn’t be sure.He barely remembered his own mother. 

 

He felt better today than he could have expected to yesterday, but there was still an uncomfortable churning in his stomach as he boarded the bus and settled down for his ride to the club.It took a few minutes of careful smoothing before the bus would accept his dollar, which had been wrinkled and crumpled nearly beyond repair, set into place with sweat from the bright stage lights.He was on his way to the club, and he had to apologize to Jay today to fix everything.He still felt sick about the whole situation, but what choice did he have? 

 

The bus arrived too quickly, and Ryan climbed off on shaking knees, not quite ready to face the music.

 

 

**…**

 

When Ryan walked into the club, he didn’t see anyone right away.He stopped just inside the door, bashful there for the first time in months, and scuffed his shoe against the tile before taking a deep, grounding breath and heading in.Chris popped up as Ryan swung his bag up onto the bar. 

 

“Hey,” Chris said, nodding his head.He had a glass and bar rag in hand.He was probably doing inventory.The amount of glasses that broke on a nightly basis in the club was ridiculous.It was a wonder they didn’t charge more in admittance just to cover that. 

 

Ryan nodded back and sat up on a stool, drumming his heels and slouching down against the low resting chair back- cool plastic through the thin layer of his t-shirt.Ryan was so nervous he was burning up. 

 

Two girls emerged across the club and began going through stretches, talking idly and smiling like they didn’t have a care in the world.Ryan squinted and made out the faces- Kat and Trisha.He didn’t know Trisha very well, but Kat was a good friend of his and a damn good dancer.Good at her job, too.She took men to bed on the side like most of the others at the club, but she seemed a bit more exclusive about it.Something told Ryan that Kat wasn’t as desperate for the money as most of the workers there.He wondered why she did it then, if she didn’t have to.Probably just for fun.She seemed the type to have fun doing this shit.

 

Ryan tore his eyes away and swiveled back around to face Chris, who was still diligently scrubbing glasses.“You seen Jay around?”

 

Chris nodded and jerked his head to the left, towards two dark red doors that were set into the club wall.In the furthest left corner was the door to Dahvie’s office, which people were only invited into for very special occasions.Next to that were the red doors, and on the other side of them were the stalls for more “personal” experiences with the dancers.Farther down were the bathrooms, and then you had the stage and the camouflaged doors to the dressing rooms for the staff.There was another door, painted black and unmarked with a large dead bolt, that sat just inside the entrance to the dressing rooms.Ryan had never seen it open and had never been inside.The wall on the right side of the stage was lined with booths, where patrons sat and hung out with drinks or hookers or both. The booths stretched down the club wall all the way to the bar. 

 

The red twin doors opened up to what was called the Rose Room.Inside were burgundy walls and polished tile floors, one wall made entirely of mirrors.The room sometimes held a chair, sometimes a table, sometimes a bed, and sometimes furniture that Ryan didn’t recognize and wasn’t sure he wanted to.It was a special room for high end guests who wanted some alone time with the clients.Ryan had been back there with a client once, and it had been for a lap dance.The man had asked for more, Ryan had said no, and that had been the end of that.It had been a rather polite evening. 

 

Ryan was a bit nervous about going into the room with Jay.For one, he didn’t know what might be in the room.He also didn’t know how Jay was going to act today, what he might do or say, and Ryan didn’t want to be alone with him behind a door that locked. 

 

“Thanks,” Ryan said to Chris, who nodded solemnly.Figuring that hesitating wouldn’t make the situation any better, Ryan gave in and toppled down from his bar stool, heading over to the red doors.When he was only a few steps away they swung open, and Ryan jumped back out of the way as Jay, with his long legs and heavy boots and leather attire, and Dahvie, smaller but not any less intimidating, walked out of the room. They paid no mind to Ryan, save for the glance and vague upturned lip corner of a smile that Dahvie sent his way, so insignificant that Ryan nearly missed it.Jay lead the way as they paced towards the stage end of the club, and they only got a few steps in before Ryan caught his wits and stumbled after him. 

 

He acted on autopilot, not entirely in control of his actions. His legs moved of their own accord and his hands shook.His jaw felt tight from grinding his teeth.This body language felt the same as it had when he’d been arguing with his father, late at night and trying to pry bottles of booze out of his belligerent hands.But no, this wasn’t his father and Ryan wasn’t fourteen anymore.He could do this. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Ryan blurted out, stopping in front of Jay and bringing the man to a halt.Jay looked down at Ryan, because he was tall enough that he had to, and raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow.“I’m sorry for disrespecting you,” Ryan continued when he didn’t say anything.That didn’t get a reaction either.

 

Jay simply studied him a moment longer before pulling his gaze away and stepping carefully around Ryan to continue his trek through the club.Dahvie patted him on the shoulder as he passed, but he didn’t say anything.Ryan stayed standing there at a loss. 

 

He wasn’t sure what to do with himself, but nobody told him to leave, so he didn’t.He sat up on the edge of the stage and let his legs dangle as he watched the girls practice.They alternated between going through pole work and shooting him pitying glances that Ryan pretended not to understand. 

 

“I don’t get what I’m doing wrong,” he eventually vented when no one else said anything.Whatever.He was tired and frustrated, and he was sick of muddling through all of this alone. 

 

Kat took pity on him and slid down gracefully from the pole, bare feet hitting the stage and padding over to him before she sunk down and stretched out on the stage, back arched, arms above her head stretching. 

 

“I dunno what to tell you, sweetheart,” she said. 

 

Ryan pulled one leg up and cradled it, resting his chin on that knee.“Dahvie said to apologize, and I did.But I guess it wasn’t good enough.”

 

Kat was quiet for a long moment, and Ryan had thought that she just hadn’t anything to say.He realized that she’d taken the moment to think when she opened her mouth again.“You know…” she started hesitantly. “Jay is pretty big into the leather scene.Maybe… look.If you want to apologize to him properly, you might want to do it on your knees.”

 

Ryan didn’t have a response to that.Kat seemed to realize that after a few moments of silence.She got back to her feet and ruffled Ryan’s hair gently before making her way across the stage.Ryan stayed where he was until the other dancers started coming in, and then he relocated himself to a back corner booth in the club that wasn’t ever occupied by anyone but employees. 

 

Ryan pondered over what Kat meant by “on his knees.”Did she mean giving Jay a blowjob?That was usually the connotation of “on your knees.”That was what Ryan learned from boys in the high school locker room at least.On the other hand, she’d said Jay was into the leather scene.He should have seen it earlier, honestly, with the vest and the boots and… yeah.Ryan was an idiot. 

 

If Jay was a leather Dom, then “on your knees” could mean Ryan literally begging Jay to forgive him while on his knees.He’d seen that sort of thing in porn before, and it sounded utterly humiliating.Ryan had some pretty diverse sexual interests, but that was not one of them. 

 

It was better than a blowjob, he supposed.That night gave him a lot to ponder, and he was left blessedly alone through the entire evening.He didn’t mean to fall asleep, but dozing off in public was apparently his _thing_ now.After what must have been hours of sitting there obliviously watching the club bustle around him, he blinked his sleep heavy eyes open and found it nearly empty.Chris was on the floor with the large broom sweeping up for the evening.There were only a few spare patrons loitering around the bar.The dancers were off stage.The clock said it was nearly three-thirty a.m. 

 

Ryan slid carefully out of the booth and tip toed the short distance to the door.The parking lot was nearly deserted; he recognized the cars that belonged to Chris or the dancers.The one that Jay had driven him home in the other night was nowhere to be seen, thank God.Ryan watched as an older man stumbled drunkenly through the gravel parking lot and up to a nice looking pick-up truck. He pressed a button on his keys, making the truck lights flash, but just as he was grabbing for the door handle the other bartender- Mike- was running over to him.

 

“Hey, no man, I called you a taxi, remember?” 

 

Said taxi was just pulling into the parking lot, and Ryan waited patiently, hiding in the shadows against the club’s exterior as Mike helped the old drunk into his ride home and trotted back inside the club.Jackpot.Ryan had just found himself a place to sleep.

 

He speed walked over to the pick-up and tugged experimentally at the back door of the cab.Just as he’d hoped, the old man hadn’t remembered to re-lock it.Ryan tossed his duffel bag in and then clambered after it, shutting the door behind him and thanking God for tinted windows, clean backseats, and delirious old men.Rain started drizzling gently on the windshield, and Ryan applauded himself for perfect timing, balling up a shirt to use as a pillow and nestling into his hoodie.He laid back, staring up at the ceiling, and contemplated what he was going to do about Jay.He knew what he had to do, now he just had to talk himself into it.

 

…

 

 

_“Give me time to realize my crime_

_Let me love and steal_

_I have danced inside your eyes_

_How can I be real”_

_-Culture Club_

 

 

Face burning hot and bright red, knees aching slightly and cool against the tile of the club, hands clasped behind his back, and eyes turned upward- Ryan was more than aware of the five people (three dancers, Dahvie, and Chris) standing around staring at him.He was trying not to squirm under the predatory look Jay was giving him.He was even taller from this angle.Ryan was kneeling only six inches from Jay’s feet.If Jay swayed forwards slightly his crotch would bump Ryan’s nose.Ryan swallowed hard against the lump in his throat and ducked his head before saying loudly, clearly, “I’m sorry.” 

 

If Jay wanted a show, he got it.If he wanted Ryan publicly humiliated, then his wish was granted.Maybe he’d make Ryan do this again on stage later.He wouldn’t put it past him.That didn’t matter though.Ryan needed back in, and if appeasing this sadist was the only way to do it, then fine. 

 

It wasn’t just the money; it was the people.Ryan had a community here, and shitty or not, it was the only support system he had.Sure, there was Jason and his parents, but what did they know about him anyways?They knew vague details about Ryan’s past home life, nothing about his current life, and Ryan couldn’t stand the pitying glances they shot him when they only knew a fraction of the shitstorm Ryan had let his life turn into.

 

He had Greta, the nice waitress at IHOP, but she had her own life to attend to and only talked to Ryan because he looked homeless and starving.She wasn’t a real friend, just a midnight one.An occasional friend.She might worry about him once in a while, but she would never think to offer him a night on her couch.He wouldn’t take it anyway.The less people he burdened, the better.

 

“Let me see those eyes,” Jay said, hand coming around to cup Ryan’s jaw.A finger curled under Ryan’s chin, and Jay thumbed at his bottom lip as he angled Ryan’s face up.Ryan didn’t flinch away this time, even though it was a fight not to.He knew better. 

 

“You look good on your knees like that,” Jay said.His voice was hushed to make it seem like he was talking only to Ryan, but the entire bar could hear them without the usual background noise to cover Jay’s words like ocean waves covering the sound of a raindrop.“You’re much prettier when you know your place.” 

 

Ryan kept his expression blank, he kept his head still, and he kept his eyes on Jay.“Yes sir,” he said, voice nearly a whisper. 

 

“Good little slut,” Jay murmured.“Pull any more tricks and I’ll have to punish you.Understand?” 

 

Ryan felt his cheeks heat up even worse than before, but he didn’t let himself falter, even with the smirk on Jay’s face widening.Ryan’s embarrassment must have been obvious. 

 

“Yes sir,” he repeated, just the way Kat had told him to, a whispered conversation in the dressing room that morning.He’d told her his plan, and she’d given him advice.Kat had a lot of experience with these things. 

 

Jay let his hand fall away from Ryan’s face and stepped back.Ryan relaxed a fraction.“Go get ready for the show tonight,” Jay said.“And wear the red ones.”He turned and walked off, and Ryan waited until he was a good distance away before struggling to his feet.His knees felt sore and weak from the hard linoleum.He risked a glance over at the bar and raised an eyebrow, daring them to say anything about what had just happened.Chris let out a casual whistle, eyebrows up to his hairline, and turned to busy himself behind the bar.The dancer’s met Ryan’s eye and then looked away.Dahvie kept staring.There was a curious expression playing on his face. 

 

That night Ryan wore the red briefs and a lacy garter around his left thigh.Most of the male strippers didn’t wear things like that, but that was because they looked like _men_ , and the audience at the club liked Ryan because he looked more like a girl.He was secure enough in his masculinity to admit that. 

 

The show went fine, same as it always did.One guy got too handsy and grabbed Ryan off the stage, but he just went with it, plopping himself down and pressing a kiss to the guy’s cheek, taking the dollar out of the man’s hand and tucking it into his own waist band, and then running away back on stage.The place was still going full speed just after midnight, but that’s when Jay caught Ryan’s eye from his place standing near the Rose Room.He raised his chin to Ryan and crooked a finger.

 

Ryan tried not to be obvious as he heaved a put-upon sigh and slid off the corner stage he’d been occupying.He snaked his way through the crowd, ignoring hands and bumps and predatory looks, and got to Jay just as he was turning away and slipping through the twin red doors.Ryan bit his lip and followed. 

 

Inside there was a chair and nothing else.Ryan had to wonder where they put the other furniture when it wasn’t being used, but he had other things to worry about presently.He caught sight of his reflection in the mirrored wall and cringed.Too lanky, too pale, too gangly and awkward.His sweaty hair was sticking to his forehead, so he pushed it back.His eyes were dark from make-up and the glitter that danced on his skin under the stage lights sat there tackily mocking him until Jay’s finger touched the light switch in the corner.The fluorescent lights faded, and suddenly the place was painted in red.

 

Jay crossed the room with long legs and heavy footsteps and settled into the chair in the center.“I want a dance,” he said to Ryan.“Away from the noise.Just you and me.”

 

As tempting as it was to say ‘fuck you’ and spit in Jay’s face, he knew this was a test that he had to pass.Besides, it was part of his job to give lap dances to patrons all the time.Why should Jay be any different?He was different, though.He was scary as hell. 

 

Ryan reminded himself not to get on the man’s bad side and sauntered over. 

 

Learning to give a lap dance had been one of the most awkward things Ryan had ever done, but by this point he was an old pro at it.He didn’t like being this close to the patrons, but it was all mechanical now.Lean in close, straddle them, roll your hips, don’t think about it, they’re having more fun than you are, just get it over with.Kat always said she felt sexy doing it, but Ryan only ever felt sick and humiliated.He tried not to think about it.Just get it over with. 

 

Usually it was easy enough.He would feel their hands on his hips and thighs and sides and know that he was doing a good job.He had to be if they were touching him.It was when they sat there and did nothing that he got nervous.Jay’s hands were different though.They shouldn’t have been, but there was fear curling deep in Ryan’s belly and sparks flying hot and painful everywhere Jay touched him. 

 

Jay was, of course, taking more liberty than most of the men did.Instead of the safe zones, hips and thighs and sides, Jay let his hands run over Ryan’s chest, caress his neck, palm at his ass and settle in the small of Ryan’s back.It was a good thing Ryan wore a cock ring during shows otherwise he’d never be able to stay hard.The patrons wouldn’t be very impressed with him.It was moments like this that he hated it though, wished he wasn’t wearing the damn thing, because it was an obvious encouragement to the men.To Jay.

 

Oh, he’s hard.He likes it.What a slut.

 

Jay probably knew about the cock ring secret, though, being a part owner and all.He probably knew the truth.Ryan just hoped he was masking his disgust well enough. 

 

“You’re good at this.You’re made for this stuff, baby,” Jay told him, cutting the dance short by pulling Ryan so close that he was sitting on Jay’s lap.Ryan’s breath caught in his throat while Jay let his hands wander down Ryan’s back.They squeezed his ass again, and then Jay was pushing him back. 

 

“That’ll do,” he said.Ryan blinked once, caught off guard, and decided not to mention that it was five dollars for a lap dance.He turned and walked out of the room, not flinching when Jay slapped his ass.He closed the Rose Room doors behind him. 

 

Dahvie was standing only a few feet away from the doors when Ryan came out.He looked at Ryan and smirked, and Ryan didn’t know what he was expected to do back, so he simply turned and headed towards the dressing room behind the stage.He put his money in an envelope and scrawled his name on it, figuring he’d slip it under Dahvie’s office door and collect his cut when he came in tomorrow.He was done for the night.The club would be winding down in a few hours anyways, and there was no rule saying he had to stay the whole night. 

 

He made quick work sneaking back out on the floor, tapping his envelope under the door into Dahvie’s office, and then hurrying back to the dressing room.He changed, tossing his uniform aside and slipping his cock finally and blessedly free.He’d wash the torture device tomorrow.It only took him a few seconds to tug all of his clothes on, and instead of going out the back door, he heaved open the dressing room window and snuck away into the night. 

 

 

 

…

 

_“_ _And it's sink or swim_

_Like it's always been”_

_-Culture Club_

 

“Look man, you’re cool and all, but we can’t do this every night,” Jason said, which Ryan thought was total bullshit since he didn’t sleep there every night anyway.Sure, he slept there more than he used to, but not _every night_.“You’ve got to go home to your dad, man,” Jason said. 

 

Ryan laughed dryly.“Yeah, fuck you.” Jason probably thought it was a joke from the way he’d grinned, so Ryan hadn’t bothered slamming the door behind him.Whatever, he didn’t need Jason.He had options.

 

That was what he told himself, at least.It was still a bit early to go to the club, even though Ryan knew Chris was probably there already.He could go there.He could always go to school- the first period bell hadn’t even rung yet-- but going there would give the Powers That Be a chance to finally corner him and punish him for his truancy. 

 

He’d been ditching for almost a month straight now.It would be bad luck to break his streak. 

 

It’d be worse luck to follow Jason’s advice and go back home.Thankfully, his father lead a very predictable life; Ryan hadn’t run into him once since leaving.That also meant that Ryan’s disappearance hadn’t shook Mr. Ross’s world any, which would hurt if Ryan still expected human emotion from his father.He didn’t expect that, though, so it didn’t hurt.It just made everything easier. 

 

He considered calling Z for a long moment, but he didn’t have any coins for a payphone, he didn’t know where to find one that worked, and he wasn’t even sure she would answer.Ryan knew she felt guilty about her parents kicking him out or she felt guilty for not warning him.Either way, she’d be too scared to answer, and Ryan didn’t feel like reassuring other people at the moment. 

 

IHOP was just starting to wind down from their breakfast rush when Ryan made his way inside.The hostess was the same from a few nights prior, and she recognized him.

 

“Hey there, duffel bag,” she greeted him.Once again Ryan expected her voice to be gravelly, and once again he was mistaken. “Strange to see you in the daylight.” 

 

“Hey,” he responded.“Greta working today?” 

 

“Not till tonight,” she said.“She’s been looking for you.” 

 

“Huh.”Ryan didn’t know whether he was surprised to hear that or not.It wasn’t any matter.He had other things to think about. 

 

“Table or booth?”

 

“Counter.” 

 

“Suit yourself.”The hostess lady motioned over to the counter (she wasn’t wearing a name tag, and Ryan as too shy to ask), so he wandered over and sat, dropping his duffel on the floor under his stool and wrapping the strap around his ankle.Just in case.If no one had stolen it from him at the restaurant in the middle of the night, it was unlikely they would steal it in broad daylight on a Tuesday morning, but it was better safe than sorry.Ryan’s entire life was in that bag. 

 

Ryan drew circles on the greasy countertop and considered the $2 menu items until a man in an apron popped his head through the tiny service window. 

 

“Hey I know you,” he said, and Ryan took a moment to realize the man was actually addressing him.He raised an eyebrow and gave his best, ‘who, me?’ expression.The guy nodded, forearms braced on the shelf of the window.“You’re Greta’s boy, aren’t you?”

 

Ryan wasn’t anyone’s boy, except for maybe Dahvie’s.He simply raised his eyebrow higher and set the menu down on the counter. 

 

“She’ll be happy to know you stopped by,” he said.“She worries about you.”

 

Ryan had to wonder why, and then he had to wonder if this guy could read minds.“She has this thing for taking care of people.”The look on his face was fond, and Ryan wondered further if maybe this guy had a thing for taking care of _Greta_. Another head popped up in the window, this one younger- possibly teenaged- and covered in voluminous hair barely confined under a hairnet. 

 

“Oh hey, it’s the kid!” 

 

Ryan scowled and lifted the menu again, hiding himself behind it until the cooks went away and left him alone.He hadn’t said a word and the conversation was tolling anyways.Today was not a good day for dealing with people.He half-hoped that he wouldn’t be put on show tonight; he knew he would anyways. 

 

Greta didn’t show up at all during breakfast, and after wasting as much time as he could, Ryan took his check and the $3.21 he owed for eggs and coffee to the hostess at the front of the restaurant.She took it from him without a word, and he turned to leave before pausing a moment and turning back. 

 

“Do you have a phone I can use?” he asked.Ryan had huge eyes and an innocent face that he knew how to use well.He was wearing Spencer’s old shirt again, several sizes too big, and it only made him look younger.Growing up had taught him a few things about manipulating people, and the aging hostess only hesitated for a moment before nodding and handing it over. 

 

Ryan chewed his lip and tapped his thumb nail against the plastic while he recalled the number, then took a deep breath and dialed.He turned and walked a few steps for privacy, holding his breath until there was an answer. 

 

“Hello?” 

 

“Michael.Hi.” 

 

“Hi?”

 

“It’s Ryan.” 

 

“Ross!” Michael always said your name like he was excited to hear from you, and he always addressed everyone by their last name. 

 

Ryan cut Michael’s small talk short.He didn’t have the patience for it, and he could feel the hostess’s eyes drilling into the back of his head.He’d better hurry up before she came over and took the phone away from him.“Hey, man, I uh… need a place to be.For a while?”

 

It was hard not to sound insecure when talking to someone like Michael.Ryan might have been one of the guys at the club, and he worked hard to keep himself on the same level as everyone else, to appear mature and adult and not sixteen or homeless or scared at all, but Michael was in college and never stopped reminding Ryan of that.They’d met when Ryan was a fourteen year old freshman kid, and Michael just loved to remind Ryan of how _young_ and _cute_ and _inexperienced_ he was in comparison.Ryan didn’t bother correcting him.If being Michael’s favorite plaything was what it took to keep him on his good side, well shit.Ryan had done worse things for that same reason just a few days ago. 

 

“Door’s always open, man.I got a new pad off fifth.Come on over.” 

 

Ryan closed his eyes and focused as Michael rattled off the address.He repeated it to himself under his breath as he hung up and returned the phone to its owner.He continued as he made his way out the door and down the street, just to give himself something to do.The place was halfway across town, Ryan was pretty sure, but he opted out of the bus.The walk would do him good, and the air wasn’t too cold with the morning sun beating down on them. 

 

Michael’s new apartment was nicer than his old one, but it was in a scarier neighborhood on the wrong side of the tracks.It was ground level, too, on a building that looked rundown, but inside it was sprawling and awesome. 

 

“Mi casa, man,” Michael said. Ryan dropped his bag by the front door and looked around as Michael re-locked three dead bolts.There were posters on the living room walls that Ryan recognized from Michael’s old place, which had been a one room apartment with a bed, a futon, a sink, microwave, and tiny attached bathroom.This place had a closet by the front door, a large living room, a kitchen, a bedroom, and a bathroom.Man, if Michael was still hosting the parties he used to be famous for, this would be the place to do it. 

 

“Folks kick you out?” Michael asked, hand clapping too hard on Ryan’s shoulder.Michael and his college buddies were all rough with each other, bear hugs and headlocks and back slaps.It had taken a while for Ryan to get used to it, considering he hadn’t had many friends growing up, let alone guy friends.The friends he did have (erm… Spencer) knew enough about him to be careful with even gentle touches, but oh no.Michael had broken him of that rather quickly, and he’d been too drunk for most of it to notice the way Ryan flinched with every contact.

 

Michael had no qualms about personal space, and he was smart about getting what he wanted.Nobody stayed at Michael’s place without paying something.Guys brought booze or drugs or sometimes just pizza.They shoved a twenty in the swear jar by the front door, which was something Michael’s mom had made years ago that Michael took with him when he moved out, just for laughs.The guests who weren’t entirely heterosexual or tied down to girlfriends paid other ways, and that was how Ryan got by. 

 

They’d kissed for the first time at the second party Ryan had ever been to.Someone had yelled “Quiet down, mother fuckers!” and started a game of seven minutes in heaven just for the prosperity.Ryan had come to the party with Jason, and he’d only ever kissed someone in that early teens first kiss kind of way until he’d gotten shoved into the closet with Michael. 

 

Michael was convincing, and they’d only known each other for a short while before they started trading handjobs, and then blowjobs, and then eventually Ryan was belly down on Michael’s bed biting into a pillow.He didn’t have any regrets about giving Michael his virginity.Michael was a good friend, and he was considerate in making sure that everyone involved in having sex with him had orgasms. 

 

So this time around they didn’t even have to talk about it.They were just hanging out- no party that night- watching something dumb on TV when they gravitated towards each other.Ryan might have been a little starved for affection (or a lot starved, actually, considering the way he’d woken up clinging to Jason on more than one account.Maybe that’s why Jason had asked him to leave.You never know).But with Michael’s arm around him and his thumb rubbing circles into Ryan’s shoulder, it was easy to melt into kissing him, and then making out on the couch, and then clumsily stripping off t-shirts and jeans and falling into Michael’s bed together. 

 

It wasn’t love making.Ryan couldn’t let himself close his eyes and pretend that it’s anything more than two friends fucking because it’s what Michael expects and it’s what Ryan wants and it’s just convenient for both of them.Curled up afterwards, because Michael liked to cuddle more than Jason, when Ryan was certain that Michael had passed out for the night, Ryan thought of something.

 

He’d called Michael that morning knowing what he’d have to do for a place to sleep.His heartbeat picked up with anxiety as he wondered if it was really so different- fucking for a place to sleep and fucking for money.

 

Freaking out wouldn’t do him any good though.Ryan squeezed his eyes shut and rolled away from Michael, taking deep breaths until it was easy again, and reminded himself that it was just fucking.It was just what he had to do.There was no use freaking out about it.

 

It was easier to relax this time without Michael’s arms around him.

 

 

**…**

 

_“There's a different smile_

_on your face today_

_Though you wear it well_

_there's a lot to say_

_There's a different mood_

_in the world tonight_

_If we can do it good_

_we can do it right”_

_-Culture Club_

 

 

“Nickelback? Are you kidding me?” Was the first thing Ryan said, then he looked down at the outfit that had been pushed into his hands and squawked. “Wait, what?”

 

“You heard me, sweetheart.Go make up a routine,” Dahvie said offhandedly with a flick of the wrist over his shoulder as he walked away. 

 

“Why do I have to do it?Make Sasha do it! Or Markus,” Ryan pleaded, trailing after Dahvie.Jay wasn’t around to stir up a fuss about the tone Ryan was using, and Dahvie was generally laid back about that sort of thing.Knowing he had the power to get his way whether the people under him argued or not gave him enough security to not worry about these sorts of things. 

 

“They don’t have the body type for it,” Dahvie responded.

 

“You’re telling me big guys can’t be subs?” Ryan challenged with a raised eyebrow and crossed arms. Dahvie didn’t even turn away from the computer he was booting up. 

 

“I’m telling you that the audience of people wanting to see them be subs is very small and too niche for this place,” Dahvie reasoned.He finally turned and gave Ryan a once over.“Plus they wouldn’t fit into those leather shorts.You’re the only one with the ass for it, sweetheart.” 

 

Ryan let out an aggravated sigh and all but threw himself down into a chair near Dahvie’s desk.He glared at the strip of leather in his hands and rolled it gently between his thumb and forefinger.It was soft. 

 

“You’d have more time to prepare if you’d been here yesterday,” Dahvie cautioned, and he didn’t ask where Ryan had been but the question was in the air anyways. _‘Where were you?’_ Ryan ignored it. 

 

“I’ll do it,” he said. 

 

Dahvie looked up again and smirked. “I know.”

 

 

…

 

 

As far as outfits went, this one wasn’t the worst.Ryan looked himself over in the full length mirror.He liked how the black leather stood out against his pale skin, the way the shorts were tight but not _too_ tight, showing off what was necessary but sitting loose enough around his hips that his stomach was still perfectly flat.The cuffs hooked around his ankles and wrists made his normally gangly arms and legs look, for lack of a better word, confined.Drawn up a bit and less out of control.He had to admit that fetish wear looked good on him. 

 

Ryan was alone in the dressing room until the door cracked open in the corner and Davhie stepped inside.“Looking good, Georgie Boy,” he said, his signature smirk playing on his painted lips as he met Ryan’s eyes in the mirror.

 

“Thanks.”

 

“Got the last piece for you.” 

 

Ryan held still as Dahvie walked up behind him and drew a thin strip of leather out of his pocket.He unfolded it and reached around Ryan to wrap the collar around his neck, and Ryan ducked his head to allow Dahvie to buckle it in the back.Ryan reached up when it was fastened and turned it around until the buckle rested in the hollow of his throat.He regarded his reflection and grinned a little. 

 

“One more thing,” Dahvie said. He pulled out something silver and shiny.His hands slid down Ryan’s shoulder and arms, connecting the thin chain first to the d-ring on the collar and then to the matching rings on both wrist cuffs.The chains didn’t do anything to actually restrain him, but the metal was cool where it was draped down his arms, and it looked neat when he moved his arms around and watched in the mirror.

 

“Got your routine down?” 

 

Ryan nodded.“Kat helped me with a few ideas.”Kat deserved Dahvie knowing how much she put into this club.Dahvie grinned like he already knew and nodded. 

 

“You could learn a lot from her.” 

 

Ryan decided not to hear what Dahvie was implying there and agreed with a nod.He was sick of how often the conversation was coming up ever since the original proposition had been made.The club, which had once been a place where he danced and made money and just hung out, now had this extra layer over it.It had this film full of “you’re not doing enough” and “just give in already” and “what’s the big deal anyways?” As much as Ryan tried not to think about it, it wasn’t working.There was only one place Ryan could actually shut his mind of, and that was on stage.

 

The song wasn’t half-bad despite Ryan’s original hesitations.I mean, come on.It’s _Nickelback._ Regardless, the song was powerful, and when the guitars growled out the intro he could feel it under the cuffs tightened around his wrists.

 

Despite the formidable feel of the song, the outfit Dahvie had given him made a lot of sense with the lyrics and the routine he’d made up. 

 

_“No is a dirty word never gonna say it first, no is just the thought that never crosses my mind-”_

The club was dark except for the lights on the stage, which made Ryan feel invisible and empowered all at the same time.He couldn’t see the audience, but he could feel them.Someone threw money; someone else cat called.Ryan felt pretty damn good at his job. 

 

“ _‘S’ is for the simple need, ‘E’ is for the ecstasy, ‘X’ is just to mark the spot ‘cause that’s the one you really want-”_

 

He spent a better part of the song doing floorwork.Being on his knees just made sense with the submissive role he was supposed to be playing, and he didn’t want to get himself tangled up on the pole with the chains he had attached to him.Self-strangulation was a thing, but Ryan would rather not die, thanks.He wasn’t sure he could trust his co-workers to cut him down, at least not before they swept up every dollar he’d made so far that night.

 

_“Sex is always the answer, it’s never a question, ‘cause the answer’s yes, oh the answer’s yes-”_

 

Ryan rolled his neck, snapped his hips, made vicious eye-contact with a nearby patron as he pushed his hair out of his face and bared his neck.He fell to his knees right at the end of the stage, up close and personal with everyone watching.He ran his hands down his chest and thighs and crooked a finger at someone leaning forward in their chair to watch him.He drew one of his chains up between his teeth.He tilted his head to the side so someone could tuck a bill into his collar.When someone reached out and groped his ass, instead of recoiling like he wanted to, he turned towards them and winked. 

 

All in all, it was a good night. 

 

His song was the last solo of the night, and afterwards he collapsed into a chair in the dressing room for a much needed break before returning to the floor to mill around and look sexy.Sweat mixed with leather felt slimy and gross, but it wasn’t worth it to strip out of his outfit just to tug on another one, so he left it be.

 

Ryan was pretty sure the sadomasochist tones of his routine were the only reason he’d gotten a solo when it wasn’t a fag night.Besides himself, Sasha was the only other male performer there that evening.Sasha was always around, though, because his gay audience was big enough that they showed up even on straight nights, and he could also serve as security if they needed him to. 

 

Ryan, on the other hand, was apparently versatile.He was like the Magic Eraser of strip club entertainment. 

 

Speaking of Sasha, he came wandering into the back shortly after Ryan collapsed into his chair.He stooped down to press a kiss to Ryan’s forehead and said, “Damn, kid.That was sexy.” 

 

Ryan let himself beam a little bit. 

 

“Dahvie had his eyes on you the whole time.” 

 

It took a lot of energy, but Ryan found it in him to crack an eye open and look up at Sasha.The guy towered over Ryan from this position, and yeah.He could totally see why the audience ate this guy up.Tall, dark, and handsome- brown skin glistening in a mixture of glitter and sweat.Ryan wouldn’t mind wearing this outfit for him. 

 

Man, the show had him riled up.He shook himself out of it and reminded himself that no, other dancers were off limits, and Sasha wouldn’t sleep with someone underage anyways.He was a good guy like that. 

 

Plus Ryan didn’t wear a collar for anyone- not off stage.He had a very small amount of control over his life, and he needed to clutch onto what he had left. 

 

“He’s got big plans for you, baby,” Sasha said. “Get back out there and make momma proud.” 

 

A laugh sputtered out of Ryan before he even had time to register it.He opened his eyes all the way.“Don’t you mean daddy?” he asked. 

 

Sasha jabbed a finger at him.“Hey.Don’t test me, boy.” Ryan could see the corners of his mouth twitching as he fought back a smile.Ryan let his own grin out, wide and cheeky. 

 

“Yes sir,” he teased, then darted out of the room laughing while Sasha shook a stick of eyeliner at him. 

 

 

…

_“Don't go down that street_

_Don't go down that street_

_Where the brave boys meet_

_Don't get in that car_

_Things might go too far”_

_-Culture Club_

 

Ryan hadn’t seen Jay at the club since the night he apologized, and that alone had him tacking this week up to be a pretty damn good one.Staying with Michael for a while was probably the best decision he’d made recently, since Michael didn’t ask and couldn’t care less about where Ryan disappeared to all the time.He didn’t have to make up any excuses.He just wished Michael good luck as he headed to his shift at the movie theatre and then ran for the bus stop.

 

That night, Ryan decided as he spun himself idly on the barstool he was occupying, was the best so far.He’d done one routine and was then allowed to relax for the evening, everyone around the bar was in a good mood, and he still hadn’t spotted Jay anywhere. 

 

On top of all that, Dahvie was out of his office and wandering the club, and he’d stopped to talk to Ryan three times that night. When a warm hand slid across Ryan’s shoulders and down his chest, Ryan knew who it was immediately.He leaned back into the touch and grinned. 

 

“Hey Dahvie,” he said.Chris met Ryan’s eye and winked. 

 

“Hey there, Georgie,” Dahvie answered.His breath carried the air of cigar smoke and fireball.Ryan wondered if there would ever be a day when he couldn’t designate an alcohol by its scent.Thanks, Dad. Dahvie was warm, though, and Ryan’s costume for the night gave little protection against the chill that hung in the shadows of the club. 

 

“What are you nursing there?” he asked.Ryan looked down at his watered-down Coke on the bar which was more melted ice than anything at this point, liquid turned from a bubbly brown to a flat golden. 

 

Ryan shrugged.“Just soda.”

 

“Oh now that’s a crime.”Dahvie let go of Ryan in order to walk around him and push the plastic cup towards Chris, who took it and dumped it out in the sink.“You’re a big boy, aren’t you?One of us?You deserve a real man’s drink.” 

 

As a child he’d been adamant about never drinking alcohol in his life, not once, not ever.He’d decided that when he was about eleven, but he’d broken his own promise just four years later at one of Michael’s parties.So yeah, he’d had a drink.He’d drunk more than once.There was a difference between a few sips and getting loaded, he’d figured.Still, he didn’t do it often, and he’d never done it at the bar at Dahvie’s. 

 

“I don’t know…” he said.Dahvie was futzing around with a few bottles, though, and he barely paid Ryan’s protest any mind.

 

“Oh shit,” he said.“Don’t be a party pooper, Georgie.You know it’s impolite to turn down a drink when a man buys it for you.” 

 

He didn’t bother pointing out that Dahvie wasn’t buying him anything.The share he kept from Ryan’s profits every night could buy plenty of drinks.Regardless, it wasn’t worth the argument.He let out a quiet sigh and glanced across the club to where the girls were twirling around on stage.He knew where this would going.Ryan was doing good.He was back in the good graces.If he turned this drink down- if he behaved impolitely to Dahvie- then he could just as quickly be out on his ass again. 

 

“Come on, kid,” Dahvie said.So much for being a ‘man.’“It’s just one drink, sweetheart.It ain’t gonna kill you.” 

 

There was a smear of purple lipstick on Dahvie’s smoke stained teeth.Ryan focused on that and then shrugged.This was a test he couldn’t fail.It didn’t matter how he felt about drinking, or how he hated the way it made his father or the patrons act.Dahvie was right.It was just one drink; it wasn’t going to kill him.Ryan shrugged again and held his hand out. 

 

Dahvie’s smile was wide and pleased, so Ryan knew he’d made the right choice.The cup was cold in his hand, orange and fruity.Dahvie picked up his own and tapped his glass against Ryan’s. 

 

“To good nights,” Dahvie said.Ryan didn’t know what he meant by that.He grinned and raised his cup to his lips and took a sip. 

 

It tasted strong, like orange juice with a bitter bite at the end, but Ryan swallowed it easily and took a larger sip. 

 

“That’s a good boy,” Dahvie said, patting Ryan’s cheek.“I’ll be back.” 

 

His own glass was left abandoned on the bar as Dahvie turned and disappeared into the crowd.Ryan wondered where he was going, but then Chris popped up again and Ryan lost himself in a conversation with the bartender, eyes grazing unfocused over the show on stage. 

 

The lights seemed brighter tonight, or maybe not as bright as usual.More colorful, definitely.Ryan squinted a bit and tried to focus on the dancers, but the more he tried, the dizzier he became.Maybe he needed to get his eyes checked.His mother had worn glasses once upon a time.Ryan had been hoping to avoid that fate though. 

 

The conversation died off, and Ryan resigned himself to watching Chris move around behind the bar.It was too loud to talk anyways.Chris’s movements seemed choppy, though, as if maybe Ryan was blinking slower than normal.He shook his head to clear it, but pain sparked behind his eyes.He had a headache. He took another drink, thinking it might be dehydration, but it didn’t help any.

 

Ryan groaned and dropped his head against the bar, but then he was sitting up again.When had he sat up?He felt a familiar flutter of anxiety in the pit of his stomach and wondered where that had come from.He hadn’t drank nearly enough to be tipsy yet.He looked down at his glass- over half empty.Huh.He’d only taken a few sips, he thought.

 

Someone bumped into him from behind, and Ryan spilled his drink all over his knees and leg of the person sitting next to him.He muttered an apology and closed his eyes for just a second, but then the man was gone, his empty glass was sitting on the bar, and there were napkins on his lap.He frowned at them.When he looked up he saw Chris, and the room was spinning. 

 

“Yo, Ryan.You okay?” Chris asked.He was frowning.Why was Chris frowning? 

 

“Just need some air,” Ryan tried to say, but it didn’t come out correctly.He stood up; his legs felt weak.Chris was rushing around the side of the bar, but after blinking Ryan couldn’t see him anymore.The room spun faster, and then Dahvie was there. 

 

“Hey, sweetheart, you don’t look so good.” 

 

Dahvie was standing close, nearly chest to chest with Ryan.His hand cupped Ryan’s jaw and held his chin up.Ryan felt like he was going to throw up; he was going to throw up on _Dahvie_.That would be bad.He tried to warn him, but then Dahvie was moving again, out of the way.Ryan took a breath.

 

“-you someplace quiet, okay?” 

 

Quiet.Quiet was good.Away from the noise.Yes, good.Ryan’s head hurt.He wanted to nod, but it hurt too much.His tongue felt too heavy to talk, and he wasn’t sure how his legs were still supporting him.Dahvie was strong though, and his arm under Ryan’s shoulders guided Ryan through the club. 

 

Ryan blinked.They were by the Rose Room.He blinked.A light was shining right in his eyes.He blinked, and they were in front of the padlocked door that never opened.Never ever.He blinked, and the door was closing behind them. 

 

They walked- at least Dahvie walked, Ryan stumbled- down a short hallway.Ryan glanced through a doorway and saw a boy, someone with dark hair and tattoos on his arms.Ryan blinked and the boy was gone and he was on a bed. 

 

“-some strong side effects, hm?” Ryan only picked up the end of what Dahvie had said.He didn’t know what he was talking about.His voice sounded gentle, but Ryan couldn’t focus.He closed his eyes. 

 

“-stay with me now.”Dahvie was patting his face.Ryan opened his eyes. 

 

“-out of those clothes.You must be heating-” 

 

Dahvie’s hands were gentle when they rolled Ryan’s shorts off his body.That was the only thing he’d been wearing.He was naked, now, but he was hot all over.The ceiling was spinning above him.He squeezed his eyes shut. 

 

Ryan could feel Dahvie’s hands all over him, on his arms and chest, his sides, his hips, his thighs.He felt Dahvie spread his legs apart and wondered what he was doing.He heard rustling noises.It was hard to focus, so he opened his eyes again.The ceiling was still spinning. 

 

“-beautiful…” Dahvie’s voice said.Beautiful?What was beautiful?Ryan wasn’t beautiful; he was nauseous.He tried to tell Dahvie that, but Dahvie just chuckled.

 

“Want me to make you feel better?” 

 

God, yes, anything to take away this damned headache.Ryan didn’t know what was wrong with him.Is this how his father felt every time he drank?He always seemed to have so much energy with alcohol coursing through his veins, but if this is how it felt, then damn.Ryan felt bad for yelling at him. 

 

That couldn’t be how it felt, though.Ryan had drank, and he’d never felt like this before. 

 

“Okay, baby.Deep breath.” 

 

Deep breath for what?Ryan meant to ask, but he got preoccupied wondering when he had rolled over onto his stomach.Dahvie’s hands ran down his back, and Ryan shivered.Deep breath for what? He tried to push himself up, but his arms were weak. Then he felt something pushing inside of him. 

 

Ryan tried to say “No,” and “Stop,” and “Wait,” but what came out instead was a strangled moan.He knew what this was.He’d done this enough to know what it was, but he didn’t know why it was happening. 

 

“W-wait,” he managed to choke out.Dahvie didn’t wait.He kept going, pushing two fingers in this time.Ryan’s breath hitched, and he closed his eyes. 

 

“You’ve done this before,” Dahvie said.“You’re so open for me.You’re more of a slut than you let on, aren’t you?” 

 

Dahvie’s voice was gentle and nice, but the words felt mean.Ryan didn’t know exactly what he’d said; he’d forgotten already.Slut.Something about a slut.Ryan wasn’t a slut, he was- 

 

He was moaning like one, though, when Dahvie’s fingers pressed against his prostate.He squirmed uselessly, only to have one of Dahvie’s hands pushing his hips back down against the bed. 

 

“Be good for me,” Dahvie said.He laughed.“Not like you have a choice.” 

 

Ryan had a choice.He tried to say no, but words were hard and his mouth wasn’t cooperating.His head was still spinning, pounding in his temples with a headache.He wanted to fight, push Dahvie away from him, but he could hardly move.His arms felt so weak. 

 

When Dahvie slid in it felt bigger than his fingers.It felt bigger than Michael, too.Ryan moaned into the bed, torn between how awful he felt and how good that felt and how he just wanted everything to stop. 

 

He closed his eyes.He could hear Dahvie’s voice, broken fragments of what he was saying, things like, “-so good for me.”

 

“-you like it.”

 

“-not so hard, huh?”

 

“-so pretty-” 

 

Ryan lay still and let it happen, felt the push-pull of something inside of him and the slide of Dahvie’s sweat-slick skin against his back, his ass, his hands pushing Ryan’s arms down into the bed as if Ryan had been fighting, but Ryan didn’t remember fighting. 

 

“Doesn’t it feel good?” Dahvie’s voice asked him, and then there was something between Ryan’s hips and the bed, something tight curling around his dick.He felt a familiar fire run up his arms and legs and then explode out of his stomach as he shouted and came all over the bed.He hoped Dahvie didn’t mind the mess.He hoped Davhie wasn’t mad at him.The push-pull motion was still going.Ryan felt too full, too sensitive, too… he didn’t know how he felt.He hoped Dahvie was done soon. 

 

Ryan closed his eyes.When he opened them again Dahvie was there with a cold washcloth wiping between Ryan’s legs and jolting him back to consciousness.“See, was that so hard?” Dahvie asked.His hands were so gentle everywhere they were touching Ryan.Ryan took a deep breath and realized he was crying. 

 

His voice said, “No.”Figured- now he could say no.Now his mouth was cooperating. 

 

“What a good boy.”Dahvie’s hands slid down his back.They patted his ass gently before Dahvie stood and crossed the room again.When Ryan reopened his eyes, Dahvie was on the bed and pulling Ryan into his side.“See how easy it could be?You could make a lot of people very happy, Ryan.” 

 

Dahvie never called him ‘Ryan.’It was always ‘sweetheart’ or ‘kiddo’ or ‘Georgie Boy’ or ‘baby,’ but never Ryan. 

 

“Don’t you want things to be easy?” 

 

Things were never easy.Ryan knew that.Nothing had ever been easy since the day he was born, but God, he would kill for the chance.For some sense of normality in his life.If for once things could be okay that would be enough for him.Ryan was crying again, and it hurt his head, but he couldn’t stop.He was getting Dahvie’s chest all wet.He hoped he didn’t mind. 

 

“Go to sleep,” Dahvie whispered.“I got you.You’re safe.” 

 

Ryan didn’t feel safe, but he was halfway to asleep already.He closed his eyes, and then just like so many blank moments that night, he was gone. 

 

 

…

 

 

_“Wake up child and throw your life away_

_See you in the crime file_

_What will your mama say_

_Sometimes you get angry_

_No focus in your life_

_When people get hungry_

_They learn how to survive”_

_-Culture Club_

 

Ryan woke up with a headache and spent a long, stomach churning moment trying to figure out where on Earth he was.It took him a moment to realize he was in Dahvie’s office, and even then his stomach didn’t stop churning.He grabbed the nearby waste bin that lived by the desk and vomited into it.Afterwards, he sat up all the way and winced.He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and wrinkled his nose at the smell.It tasted like chemicals.Dahvie wouldn’t be happy to see the state of his office.

 

Oh… fuck.Dahvie.

 

Ryan dropped his head into his hands, elbows braced on his knees, and that pressure finally stopped his hands from shaking.Memories from the night prior were fuzzy at best and consisted entirely of hands on Ryan’s hips and lips against his neck and…

 

Not much.Ryan squeezed his eyes shut, but he could barely remember anything.He remembered the bar, and then he remembered Dahvie.He remembered having sex, but not the actual doing so much as he remembered the idea of it.He could feel it on himself, too.It had happened, he just couldn’t remember why. 

 

He didn’t remember much, but his skin remembered the touches.It felt like it was crawling.

 

He spit into the waste bin one more time and then struggled to his feet.His limbs felt heavy, and he was trembling all over.He felt as if he stopped focusing on his breathing- in out in out- he’d stop breathing altogether.Ryan was dressed in his t-shirt and boxer briefs, but he didn’t remember getting dressed last night.His jeans were sitting folded on the floor by the couch with his shoes and hoodie next to them.He tugged everything on and poked his head out of the office. 

 

The club was empty and dark, but Ryan still hurried as best as he could on his way across the floor to the fitting room.He stopped for a moment in front of the padlocked door with an intense sensation of deja vu, but he quickly shrugged it off and hurried on.He found his duffel bag by the window with a group of bills tucked into the front pocket: that night’s earnings, probably.He pocketed the money and heaved his bag up onto his shoulder.

 

Luck was ironically on his side since the bus pulled up as soon as Ryan approached the stop.Thank God.He probably couldn’t have made the walk into town with the way his body was still shaking.It wasn’t from cold, even though Ryan could see his breath in the air as he clambered on board and pushed his dollar into the machine.The bus driver looked up at him and raised an eyebrow, and Ryan felt a blush appear on his cheeks. This guy looked at Ryan like he knew what Ryan was up to.Like he was wondering what Ryan was doing out there by the strip club at the crack of dawn.Like he could see right through him. 

 

Ryan felt sick.He ducked his head, hurried to a seat in the back, and watched the sun come up over the mountains as the bus made its way into town. 

 

He didn’t have a key to Michael’s place, so when he finally stumbled his way down the block, across the parking lot, and to the front door, he banged against the wood for a moment and then slumped back against the wall.Knocking made his head hurt, and he still felt terribly nauseous.If it weren’t for that, he would have felt bad for waking Michael up to open the door. 

 

There were three tell-tale clicks of deadbolts moving out of the way before the door opened to show Michael standing on the other side, looking disoriented and sleepy, wearing only sweatpants and a confused frown. 

 

“Bro,” he said, after a long moment.“You look like shit.” 

 

Ryan grunted a response and pushed past Michael as he shuffled into the apartment.The TV was on mute, screen lighting the room up blue with some news program about Chicago riots playing.The couch looked worn down and had a blanket nest on it, meaning that’s where Michael had been sleeping that night.Would it be rude to go pass out in Michael’s bed if Michael was sleeping on the couch?Ryan wasn’t sure what the rules were here. 

 

“I think I’ve been drugged,” he confessed, because if anyone knew how to handle this situation, it would be Michael. 

 

“Shit, man,” he said.He was talking too loud.“What happened?Here, drink some water.” 

 

Ryan decided too late that he didn’t really feel like talking about it.If he couldn’t remember it right, what was there to say anyways?“I’m gonna shower,” he said.He felt dirty.On the bus ride home he’d started feeling wet between his legs, which was proof that he and Dahvie had fucked last night.He just couldn’t remember it. 

 

“Drink some water, man.”Michael pushed a glass into his hand, and Ryan sipped from it.It was a little bit orange from rust.Maybe Ryan would get heavy metal poisoning and die. “You okay?” 

 

No.“Yeah, fine” Ryan said. 

 

“If you wanna talk about it-”

 

Ryan interrupted to say, “I don’t,” and then locked himself in the bathroom.He slumped back against the door and listened to Michael sigh.He didn’t bother trying to talk to Ryan anymore, though, leaving Ryan to busy himself with the shower.He stayed in there longer than necessary, scrubbing at his skin and trying to wash off last night’s layer of sweat and make-up and whatever else.The water helped ease his headache some, but it didn’t do anything to stop the way his hands kept trembling.Eventually he had no other choice but to pull on some warm clothes and curl up in Michael’s bed, no longer caring if it was polite or not. 

 

 

…

 

 

_“_ _Now we're fighting_

_in our hearts_

_Fighting in the streets_

_Won't somebody help me”_

_-Culture Club_

 

 

The sun was starting to set when Ryan stirred back to life.He stretched, rubbed at his eyes, and rolled over to glare at the clock next to the bed.The apartment sounded totally empty, and it was late enough for Michael to have already left for work.His head hurt considerably less than it had that morning, but he picked up the water glass sitting next to the clock radio on the night stand and downed it anyways.It was best to be cautious about unattended water glasses, especially at places like Michael’s, but there was a sticky note next to it that said “Drink this” so Ryan figured it was safe.

 

Ryan rolled out of bed and shucked his clothes, changing into something street appropriate- a sweatshirt and yesterday’s jeans.There was something poking at his thigh through the pocket, so Ryan dug it out and carefully unfolded a piece of paper that he found there. 

 

_“You know what the offer is,”_ it said. _“You’d be great at it, sweetheart.Think it over.You were wonderful last night.”_

 

The note was signed _“xoxo Dahvie.”_ It was flattering to know he was a good fuck, even though he couldn’t remember it properly.It was also relentlessly creepy, so Ryan folded the note back up and shoved it into his pocket.He’d deal with it later. 

 

Feeling restless after sleeping for so long, Ryan took to the streets to find something to do.He left his duffel bag at Michael’s place, because he wasn’t running tonight, just getting some air.He found himself, unsurprisingly, at the diner.The hostess- same lady as the past visits, still not wearing a nametag- recognized him and waved him over to a booth in the back corner. 

 

“Greta will be with you in a minute,” she said, and then disappeared.It wasn’t a minute later that Greta was at Ryan’s side, grinning like the sun on a cloudy day and leaning her hip against the edge of his table. 

 

“Hey there, sweetheart,” she said.Ryan was apparently everyone’s ‘sweetheart,’ but it sounded different on her lips than on anyone else’s.It sounded less like someone checking him out and more like someone’s grandmother. 

 

“Hey,” he said back. 

 

“Coffee?” 

 

Ryan nodded, and Greta disappeared for a minute.She returned with a steaming mug that she set in front of Ryan, sliding him the basket of creamer and sugar, but Ryan picked it up black and took a sip.Maybe he was trying to impress her, or maybe he was trying to emulate what he’d seen his father do with hangovers.He stood strong by two steadfast ways to cure a hangover- black coffee hot enough to burn your taste buds off, or just start drinking again. 

 

Greta grinned at him. 

 

“You doing alright?” Ryan nodded. 

 

“How late you work tonight?” 

 

Greta shrugged and stuck her hands into the pockets of her blue IHOP regulation apron.“Till midnight, tonight.Butcher told me you were in the other night.” 

 

Ryan had no idea who the Butcher was or why he would know anything about Ryan’s whereabouts.He shrugged.“Yeah.”

 

“No duffel bag tonight?” 

 

“Holding still for a while,” he answered.For ‘a while.’God only knew how long that was; Michael would get sick of him eventually, probably.Maybe he’d kick Ryan to the curb later that night, when Michael tried to make a move and Ryan said, ‘no man, sorry.Maybe tomorrow.’He couldn’t do it; not tonight.Something just felt wrong. 

 

Greta’s smile looked even sadder after he said that, so Ryan just stopped saying anything.He sipped at his coffee and ordered the cheapest thing on the menu, tried not to respond when she said anything to him.Eventually she got the hint and left him alone, but when Ryan took his check up the the hostess after he was finished, she took the receipt and said his bill was covered, don’t worry about it, kid, get out of here. 

 

Well shit, Ryan couldn’t argue with that.He hunkered down in his hood and headed out the door.The sun had already set, and half the streetlights in the area were burnt out, so the streets were dark and empty. 

 

The apartment would be dark and empty, too.Ryan didn’t feel like entertaining himself that night.He could head over to the club, but it would already be in full swing, and he wasn’t on to dance until tomorrow night.He wandered in the direction of Michael’s apartment, well aware of what went on in that part of the neighborhood at night.Maybe it was mindless paranoia, or maybe it was leftover trembles from the night prior, but Ryan could feel the hair on the back of his neck standing up.He felt like he was being followed. 

 

Ryan stopped on the sidewalk and glanced around him, full circle.The streets were empty except for some old lady across the street.She had skirts hanging down to her ankles, and she shuffled down the sidewalk slowly.She and Ryan were going the same direction, but she appeared harmless, so Ryan watched her only a second more before continuing on. 

 

He had only made it another half block before a ‘swishing’ noise somewhere to his left caught his attention.He stopped and whirled around to look, but there was nothing there.Not any sort of movement.The lady from earlier was nowhere to be seen either.Creepy. 

 

He just wanted to get back to Michael’s as quickly as possible at this point.He knew his fear was childish and stupid, but there was a reason nobody else was walking around that late. Besides that lady… Wherever the heck she went.Ryan was sure he’d feel better once he was behind those three deadbolts.It had been a crazy couple of days. 

 

Another noise caught his attention, and Ryan sped up. There was panic bubbling in his stomach, and he just wanted to get inside as quickly as possible.An alleyway nearby was almost a straight shot to Michael’s building, and yeah it was unlit and creepy as hell, but Ryan wasn’t scared of the dark anyways. 

 

He picked up his pace once he was in the alleyway, jogging a bit and splashing through puddles, until a voice behind him caught his attention.

 

“Wait,” a woman’s voice said, just loud enough to be heard. 

 

Ryan stopped in his tracks. 

 

“What?” he asked, turning to look behind himself and seeing the woman from earlier.She was walking towards him slowly, and Ryan backed up. 

 

“Wait,” she repeated, stepping closer. 

 

Ryan retreated another step just to have his back hit a nearby dumpster. 

 

“What?” Ryan asked, voice growing louder.“What do you want?” She stepped close enough for Ryan to see light reflecting off her eyes, and they shone golden: unnatural.Not human. 

 

A noise like thunder had Ryan tossing his glance to the sky.The skies had been generally clear all day, and if it was about to storm, he’d better run for shelter before he got caught in a flash flood. 

 

The thunder wasn’t coming from the sky, though.Not with the lack of clouds and the moon shining down brightly at them.The thunder was coming from directly in front of him, and Ryan just had the time to think _‘no fucking way…’_ before the woman was upon him and he hit the ground. 

 

 

…

 

The ironic thing- the thing that really, really pissed Ryan off -was that he’d barely ever given a second thought to the whole werewolf thing.To be honest, he’d never fully believed that they existed in the first place.Ryan hadn’t lead a normal life, but he’d lead a very human one.There was no mistaking it though.Between the blood on his shirt, the scar on his side, and the haunting image of the woman from the night before shifting and convulsing under her skin before turning into a wolf and running away…. 

 

It just really fucking figured, was all.If anyone was going to get bitten by a werewolf- if that was what happened.If Ryan hadn’t officially lost his mind- it figured that it would be him. 

 

It was the dead of the night and about time that Ryan got off the ground and went back to Michael’s apartment.When he sat up, his head swam, and Ryan had to laugh about it.This was the second time within twenty-four hours that he was waking up disoriented with pieces of his memory missing. 

 

He’d sat up earlier, long enough to look over his torn shirt and the pink crescent on his ribs, then he’d flopped back down on the ground and tried not to hyperventilate. 

 

Now it was go time, though.He’d been bitten by a werewolf (allegedly), and he felt pretty calm about the whole thing.He would go back to Michael’s, grab a shower, throw away his bloody clothes, and see what happened from there.He didn’t know anything about werewolves, just that they (apparently, possibly) existed, that he (potentially) was one, and that a lot of people had died because of them. 

 

But Ryan hadn’t died, and that was (maybe) a good thing. 

 

He didn’t feel any different when he stood up.Just a bit dizzy, but that wasn’t exactly new.It could have been left over from his potential drugging the night before (he still wasn’t entirely sure what had happened there, just that he’d taken a drink and then let Dahvie take him to bed).Maybe the lady hit Ryan over the head really hard and left him there, but Ryan didn’t think that was the case. His wallet was still in his pocket, which meant she hadn’t been a mugger.He couldn’t get that image of a wolf out of his head, either.The way her skin had rolled and the noise her bones had made when they popped.Thinking about it made Ryan feel sick. 

 

His hands were shaking. 

 

He didn’t feel any different, though, so maybe he’d gotten lucky.Maybe he wasn’t a werewolf now.He certainly didn’t feel too different from his old self.

 

A car horn went off somewhere down the street, and Ryan clutched at his head, pressing his palms tight to his ears and trying to keep his head from exploding.Fuck.Fuck why the fuck was it so loud?It had to be part of the hangover, unless….

 

Ryan was trembling all over, and he figured it was from the cold.Eager to get inside and warm up, he took off running down the alley.It took mere seconds for Ryan to reach Michael’s front door, and he didn’t feel winded at all.He still felt dizzy.That was weird; Ryan wasn’t generally a good runner. 

 

When he slammed the door behind him, it sounded loud enough to break the barrier.He was glad Michael wasn’t home yet.Wait… Michael wasn’t home yet.How had Ryan known that?He didn’t even know what time it was. 

 

The clock in the kitchen said 11:24 p.m.It wasn’t as late as he’d thought, and it was early enough for Michael to still be at work.Ryan checked the apartment anyways, even though he was certain- by some unknown reasoning- that Michael wasn’t home.He locked himself in the bathroom after double checking and stripped his clothes off slowly, wincing at the pull where blood caused cloth to stick to skin and scared of what he wasn’t going to find now that he had light to see. 

 

Light.Huh.It was dark outside, but Ryan distinctly remembered looking over his side in the alleyway and seeing the scar.The alleyway had been nearly pitch black when the lady had initially approached him (the lady.Skin, blood, wolves… Ryan shuddered).How had he been able to see? 

 

Regardless, Ryan could see now.Twisting around and looking down at himself, he saw the pink crescent of teeth marks standing out brightly against his pale skin.There was nothing else it could be except a bite mark, and judging by the looks of it, a bite mark that had gone in pretty deep.Ryan knew what human bites looked like.They were pink and purple and bruised, but the bruising had healed green around this one already and the scar looked like the one on Ryan’s head that his father had given him for his fourteenth birthday. 

 

Ryan cursed quietly to himself and climbed into the shower.He scrubbed and scrubbed until his entire body was bright pink and finally warm.He still felt shaky and awful, and he’d nearly cried when scrubbing over the bite mark.It was so tender it killed. 

 

Killed.Oh God. 

 

Ryan didn’t know what was going to happen next.He didn’t know what he was supposed to do next.As some sort of precaution, the only one he could think of for Michael’s sake, Ryan curled up on the couch and passed out instead of sleeping in Michael’s bed.He didn’t want to accidentally maul Michael in his sleep.He wasn’t sure how that worked, but it just felt safer this way. 

 

 

…

 

_“_ _I'll give you everything you need_

_Twisted security_

_I'll give you everything you need_

_What do you want from me_

_I'll give you everything you need_

_Twisted security_

_I'll give you everything you need”_

_-Culture Club_

 

Ryan’s new approach to life was simple: sit back and wait.There was nothing he could do besides that; any illusion of control that he had over his life had officially shattered.When Dahvie approached him about his note, his offer, Ryan said he’d “think about it,” and with that phrase Dahvie had to think he’d won.Before Ryan’s answer had been an unyielding no, but now it was an “I’ll think about it.” 

 

Control: lost. 

 

Ryan still wasn’t certain about the whole werewolf thing either, but now he had paranoia turning his ear to any and all mentions of wolves in his daily life.He’d never realized how popular a conversation topic it was, but he was hearing it everywhere: on the news, in the club, on the streets, between Michael and his friends.It was pretty hard not to think about it, which was what Ryan was trying to do. 

 

Perhaps not thinking about it wasn’t the best approach.For example, he had no idea when the full moon was, but he was pretty sure that was something he should be prepared for now.Just so he didn’t surprise anyone on stage, or surprise Michael in bed.Oh God. 

 

Control: hadn’t even existed in the first place. 

 

Speaking of Michael, Ryan hadn’t slept with him since sleeping with Dahvie.He didn’t think it had anything to do with Dahvie, but apparently he didn’t even know himself anymore.He hadn’t known himself very well in the first place, but now it was worse.Consider that another thing he had no control over. 

 

But no, Ryan hadn’t been sleeping with Michael, and Michael was quickly becoming irritated with him. He didn’t mention it, because Michael was a good guy like that.Ryan tried to slip a dollar or two into the swear jar on occasion to make up for it, but that really didn’t fill the difference. 

 

He was just scared.The few times he’d had to run for the bus, and a few times when things got really heated on stage, Ryan could feel something new and foreign bubbling under his skin.He could feel something pulling and urging.He didn’t know what was causing it, and he didn’t know what it was.If getting riled up had anything to do with it, though, and if it was any sort of werewolf thing at all, Ryan wasn’t sure he or Michael would survive Ryan’s next orgasm. 

 

It was best to just… not… for a little while.Until he got some semblance of control back, which, ha.When had he even had any to begin with? 

 

To put it simply, Ryan’s life was a phenomenal shitstorm, and then Dahvie cornered him in the back of the club one night. 

 

“I know what you’re hiding, Ryan Ross,” Dahvie said, and Ryan’s brain immediately dug up the half-full rum bottles Ryan had hidden under his bed at his father’s house.Obviously that wasn’t what Dahvie was talking about, but the thought remained. 

 

Full name wasn’t good, though.Dahvie never called him by his real name, first or last, so this had to mean some sort of business.Ryan quirked an eyebrow at him and leaned back against the wall with his arms crossed.Whatever Dahvie thought he had stolen or done or whatever, he was wrong.Ryan hadn’t done anything to screw Dahvie over.He wasn’t stupid.

 

Dahvie picked up on the game he was playing quickly, and he was going to play one back, judging by the smug look on his face.“You know I saw something interesting in the local paper the other day,” he said.“About wolves being spotted around town.Bigger than normal, they said.Funny.Huh?”

 

Ryan’s blood turned cold as he thought about the woman in the alley way, the way she’d changed, the size of her shadow when she’d cantered away on all fours.He repressed a shudder and tried not to think about how naked he was, standing there shirtless.He’d covered the mark up with concealer, but there was only so much the makeup could do. 

 

“Oh yeah?” Ryan’s voice sounded weak even to his own ears.The smirk on Dahvie’s face spread wider. 

 

“They’re sending out teams to hunt them down,” Dahvie said.“These werewolf people are in a lot of trouble.” 

 

Ryan swallowed hard and did his best to keep the terror off of his face.“Why are you telling me this?” he asked. 

 

“I think you know why.”Dahvie’s words had Ryan’s heart pounding hard in his chest and his skin tingling- the tops of his hands, the back of his neck.He pushed it away.It was nothing.He was imagining it. 

 

“You’ve gotten yourself in a lot of trouble, baby boy,” Dahvie said, hand pressing to the wall next to Ryan’s head and caging him in.“A runaway.A high school dropout.A cheap whore, and now a werewolf.How does such a sweet kid like you get wrapped up in a mess like this?”

 

There was no way this conversation could actually be happening.It was some sort of a dream.It had to be. 

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ryan ground out in his best monotone.His jaw ached from clenching his teeth.Dahvie patted his cheek, and Ryan had to suppress the urge to bite him.Where had that even come from? 

 

“They’re going to try and kill you, Ryan,” Dahvie said.Ryan swallowed hard.Yeah, he already figured that.“And if you’re as careless out there as you are in here, they’ll know what you really are in a heartbeat.” 

 

Ryan didn’t know what to say to that.Dahvie’s eyes looked predatory, and Ryan found himself dropping his own to the floor.“A cute kid like you?How are you going to protect yourself?”

 

He hadn’t even considered that yet.He hadn’t turned into a wolf yet, so that hadn’t even come to mind.If he wasn’t sure he was a werewolf, not for certain, how could Dahvie be so sure?How did Dahvie know what was going to happen to him? 

 

“How-”

 

“I saw the blood stained clothes in your bag,” Dahvie interrupted.“It was careless to leave it open, really.Between that and the poorly disguised scar on your side…. It looks fresh, sweetheart.When did it happen?”

 

There was no use hiding it if Dahvie already knew.Ryan let out a breath.“About a week ago.” 

 

“And I already figured it out.I’m sure others have, too.It’s only a matter of time before someone dangerous pieces it together.”Dahvie clucked his tongue like he was disappointed.Ryan’s stomach was turning somersaults.Dahvie glanced up and to the left, then caught his perfectly painted lip between yellow teeth.“You now, I’m pretty sure Jay knows a few hunters…”

 

An unintentional growl made its way out of Ryan’s throat before he even realized he was doing it, and then it was too late to stop.He inhaled sharply and watched Dahvie with wide eyes.He watched the way Dahvie smirked, the way his eyes glinted under the fluorescent lights. 

 

“I can keep you safe,” he said.Ryan didn’t believe him.Nobody could keep him safe, not now.“Be a good boy for me, and I can protect you.”

 

“ _How?_ ” Ryan snapped.He didn’t mean to.What was the matter with him? 

 

“I keep your secret.I cover for you.All you have to do is what I say,” Dahvie said.Ryan didn’t believe him; he couldn’t afford to.He worried his own lip and eyed Dahvie suspiciously. 

 

“You think you’re the first supernatural I’ve met, baby?I’ve been in this game a long time.If anyone is gonna help you in this town, it’s me.Haven’t I helped you already?” 

 

He had.Dahvie had helped Ryan a lot.He hadn’t let him down so far. 

 

“You already know I’m gentle,” Dahvie said, voice purring.Ryan shuddered. 

 

“The other night with me was easy, wasn’t it?How easy would it be to keep that up?You do favors for some of my friends, I give you a place to sleep, keep your secret, keep you safe.Doesn’t that sound nice, baby?” 

 

It sounded perfect… too good to be true.“How could you-”

 

“I have my ways.Just trust me.” 

 

“I-”

 

“What other choice do you have?” Dahvie asked, and Ryan’s breathing stopped short for a second.He had a point.That was the best argument Dahvie had.Ryan had lost all control of his life; he might as well give some to Dahvie. 

 

“Okay,” he said.“If you can-”

 

“I promise.”Dahvie’s fingers carded Ryan’s hair off of his forehead, pushing his head gently back against the wall, before the man leaned in and kissed Ryan’s cheek. 

 

Ryan swallowed again.He felt safe, not scared.He felt less vulnerable than he had in days, maybe weeks. 

 

“You promise?” Dahvie grinned.Ryan closed his eyes.“Okay.” 

 

 

…

_“How can I help you boy_

_when I don't even help myself_

_I'm useless now as I have always been..._

_Ain’t no perfect situation”_

_-Culture Club_

 

“Until I find a safe place,” Dahvie had told him, setting Ryan up with a blanket and pillow on the couch in his office.“Something steady.”Ryan hadn’t had steady in a long time, and while he was waiting for the carpet to be pulled out from under him, the offer was nice.He wasn’t going to turn it down. 

 

He didn’t give Michael much reason for leaving, but then again it wasn’t like Michael expected him to stay.He just said, “It was good, man.Thanks for having me,” and dropped another dollar in the swear jar as he hauled his duffel bag out the front door.The air was warm enough in the mid-afternoon, and Ryan felt out of place making his way down the street amongst countless other working adults and high schoolers free from class for the day.He was used to walking alone, and he was worried that one of his old classmates might recognize him. 

 

Not that he talked to many people at school to begin with, but the chance was still there.Lady Luck was not his friend as of late. 

 

He had his bag, and he was on his way to the bus stop and then to Dahvie’s when he felt the hairs on the back of his neck start to prickle. 

 

The full moon hadn’t hit yet, so he still wasn’t 100% certain on the whole wolf thing (he refused to be until he had no other choice.Tangible evidence was a must).Still, the 99% was fulfilled by Dahvie’s warning, and then backed up by the strange things that Ryan had noticed happening around him ever since that night in the alley.Sounds were louder, smells were stronger, and his awareness of things around him could only be compared to “spidey-senses” from Spencer’s dad’s old comic book collection that they found when they were kids.The hairs on his neck meant that something was up, and Ryan once again had the unshakable feeling that someone was following him. 

 

It was the middle of the day this time instead of at night, but Dahvie’s words about how people would _know_ , how they would try to _kill him_ , lit a fire in his gut that wasn’t going to burn out any time soon.He picked up the pace and walked faster.He was pretty sure whoever was tracking him did the same. 

 

It was a straight shot to the bus stop, but he turned a corner anyways, jogging down a sidestreet and popping out between businesses.He turned left, he walked faster, he darted in between buildings again and then back out.He was nearly to the bus stop when whoever it was finally cornered him. 

 

“Hey I know you!” a voice said.Ryan winced and came to a stop.He turned his head to look at the speaker, and he was greeted with a familiar smile.They didn’t appear dangerous, but it turned out Ryan’s paranoia about seeing someone for school wasn’t entirely unsound.His stalker from sophomore year was back, smiling widely and walking up to him. 

 

Ryan sniffed the air without meaning to, and something in his head screamed “wolf!”Ryan blinked.This kid, a wolf? 

 

“Never would have guessed it!” the boy said.Ryan didn’t know his name.“The scent, it’s all over you though!I knew I smelled somebody!” 

 

Ryan blinked again.This kid.A wolf.And he knew Ryan was a wolf.He’d been able to pick Ryan out of a crowd.God, Ryan was in so much trouble.If Dahvie hadn’t offered to protect him, he’d probably be dead within the week. 

 

“What’s your name?” the kid asked, holding his hand out as if he expected a handshake or something.“I’ve been referring to you as bathroom sandwich kid, but that’s not really appropriate, huh?I used to see you at school all the time, but you’re not there this year!Did you graduate?” 

 

Ryan couldn’t keep up, but then he didn’t have to.He noticed the bus stopping just a few blocks away and let out a relieved breath. 

 

“I’ve got to…” he trailed off and winced.“...bus….”

 

“Wait a second!” the kid shouted.Ryan grimaced again.“I’m one, too,” the boy told him.“Let me give you my number, kay?We gotta stick together.That’s what Zack said.Solidarity and all that.”As he talked, he dug around in his backpack and scribbled something on a ripped off piece of paper.“Here.That’s my cell number, okay?You can text me or whatever, if you, like, need somebody.My pack is cool like that.” 

 

His pack.Ryan reluctantly took the paper and shoved it into his pocket.He also took a step back.Here was this kid, this almost-stranger, approaching Ryan in the street and blabbing about his darkest secret like it was nothing.Talking openly about something that could get them both killed.They were monsters, and this boy was inviting Ryan to join his group of monsters. 

 

God, first a whore house, now this.What was Ryan’s life turning into? 

 

“Okay,” Ryan said, taking another step backwards as the bus approached. 

 

“I’ll see you!” the boy hollered. 

 

Ryan rolled his eyes and practically ran onto the bus, feeding it his dollar and sitting as quickly as possible, as if that would help protect him.He didn’t bother to look out the window to see if the kid had walked away yet or not.He didn’t want to let himself think about it. 

 

…

 

 

_“Better keep your hands off me_

_And I pray, I pray_

_I've been on my knees all day_

_And I pray, I pray_

_I hear every word you say…_

_Kiss and count the enemy”_

_-Culture Club_

 

He let Dahvie fuck him again, but this time he remembered everything.Dahvie’s hands were gentle everywhere they touched his skin, and his voice was gentle too.“You’re being so good for me,” he’d said.“I’ll teach you to be good.” 

 

He moved in and out of Ryan anchoring his hips to the bed and trailing biting kisses from Ryan’s neck down his chest.“I’ll teach you to take it,” he’d said.“You’ll make me proud, won’t you?”

 

“Nobody can hurt you here,” Dahvie had told him, smiling happily at the gasping noises Ryan couldn’t help but make when he pushed in _just right_.“You’re mine now.” 

 

“My good boy,” Dahvie said, and Ryan remembered thinking that once upon a time that felt so long ago but probably wasn’t. _“I’m not anybody’s boy,”_ he had thought. _“Except for maybe Dahvie’s.”_ Retrospect was a bitch. 

 

“You’re mine,” Dahvie told him.“Say it.” 

 

Ryan didn’t want to, but he couldn’t argue against the hands that tightened painfully on his hips when he didn’t comply.“Yours,” he’d gasped out.“All yours.” 

 

“My good boy,” Dahvie repeated.

 

Ryan came to Dahvie practically milking it out of him, and he was left feeling spent and empty on the bed.Dahvie sprawled out next to him and smoothed back Ryan’s hair.“Be good for me, sweetheart, and I’ll be good to you,” he’d said.“I take good care of my things.” 

 

He hadn’t stayed long afterwards, to Ryan’s consolation.He’d promised to return soon though, and he’d promised more ‘training.’Ryan didn’t know if that meant fucking or something else.He didn't know how soon Dahvie would be back, either.“You don’t dance tonight,” he’d said.“But be back at the club early tomorrow, Georgie.” 

 

Perhaps he’d be alone until tomorrow, and he could stay curled up and safe until then.Ryan hugged his knees tighter to his chest and willed his breathing to calm down, the tears to stop coming.The king sized bed seemed huge with Ryan curled up tight in the middle of it.The bedding smelled like him and Dahvie and spunk and countless other couples that had laid there before them.The room had traces of cigarette smoke and strangers.He could hear every conversation going on in the cheap motel building, and he couldn’t shut it off.Across from his bed and next to the old box TV hung a mirror, and Ryan’s reflection didn’t look like himself.His eyes, which were supposed to be hazel, stared back golden. He dug his fingers into his arms where he was clutching himself, and claws pierced through his skin.A noise that he meant to come out as a whimper thundered out as a growl.He was so scared that he couldn’t stop crying, and his thoughts were stuck like a broken record on the words Dahvie said before he left.“You’re mine now. 

 

You’re safe. 

 

I take good care of my things.” 

**Author's Note:**

> This took so much longer than it should have. There is no excuse...
> 
> ...but if you'd like to hear one anyways, here it is. First and foremost I was interrupted by finals week, and then by jetlag from the trip home. After that I had to spend a few weeks sulking around and being devastatingly heartbroken, just in time to start summer classes. But finally, through painstaking writing binges scheduled around thirty-five hour work weeks, I've finally done it. 
> 
> This is one of the best things I've written, in my opinion. Shoutout to Kcracken for beta-ing. If you haven't checked her out yet, you oughta. 
> 
> Thanks for reading. Thanks for commenting. Book Five is in the making.


End file.
